The Hogwarts Extras and the Marauders' Map
by JustForFunfic
Summary: (Written on a near-professional level) Follow two young and rather clueless first-year students as they adventure behind the scenes at Hogwarts, one in Gryffindor and the other in Slytherin.
1. Chapter 1: Diagon Alley

**The Hogwarts Extras and the Marauders Map**

**Chapter 1: Diagon Alley**

Mikaela and I pretended to know where we were going as we skipped around Diagon Alley trying to find places like Flourish and Blotts and Ollivanders. The place was bustling with magical people looking like little pieces straight from my wildest sketches of wild fantasies. Long purple robes, tall elegant hats, and no noticeable brand names, something Mikaela also noticed and appreciated. Our moms were trailing behind loosely, and eventually we lost them passing a pub, where it can be assumed they parked themselves for the afternoon. The giddiness at being set loose on a whole wizarding village wore off as we reached the end of the sunny street, an intersection marked "Diagon Alley" and "Knockturn Alley". I suggested we try the new street, which looked very interesting, as if it was magically overcast even in the sunlight. Also there was a green lady selling what looked like Christmas ornaments from a grim-looking cart. Mikaela said no.

The first shop we came upon was Flourish and Blotts. It was probably the best place I had ever been in. Enormous books were piled high and stacked on shelves lining the walls all the way up to the ceiling. Neither of us had any clue where we were supposed to look for our spellbooks, but neither of us felt like asking an attendant. So Mikaela started scouring the shelves for the titles on her list, and I wandered over to a corner devoted to Divination, and started perusing the shelves.

The first books I got my hands on weren't as exciting as I had hoped, so I was forced to toss them onto the floor at my feet. My favorite book that I discovered was about death omens, with a frightening black dog on the cover, who I learned two pages in was called the Grim, and he was the ultimate omen for death. My uncle had a dog named Jake who looked just like the Grim. Was my uncle doomed to die?

A painfully short forty-five minutes later, Mikaela stormed over to me, exasperated that I had not collected my books yet. I explained that I _had_ been collecting books, as I motioned toward the increasingly large pile of divination books at my feet.

She led me around the store and I spent about a third of my money.

Next, we went into Madame Malkin's, and it was my turn to be extremely bored while Mikaela took a whole fifteen minutes picking out robe fabric and getting fitted and deciding whether or not to buy a hat. The robe tailor woman, presumably Madame Malkin herself, looked relatively dumbstruck when I asked her if I could just have a medium large. She then prodded me onto a stand and forced me to give her my measurements. I told Mikaela she didn't have to stay, but she hung around anyways, striking up a conversation with a short skinny blonde boy when I became so gloomy standing on that stool with my arms stretched out that I couldn't talk. For the dreadfully lengthy ten minutes it took Madame Malkin to fit my robes, I mostly daydreamed that I was a bat flying around in the rafters of the shop, until something in Mikaela's new conversation caught my ear, and I drifted into attention:

"Oh. Well, then." said the blonde boy, looking a little perturbed. He had been looking her in the eye, up till then.

"Why? What's the difference if you've got muggle parents?" Mikaela asked him, her voice getting higher. The boy snickered in an unpleasant way, but didn't answer. Mikaela looked shocked that anyone could be so rude.

"Hey!" I said loudly at him. "What's the difference?" I was honestly curious. Also, for some reason, I felt hot anger start to spread from my stomach, even though he hadn't really _said_ anything yet. I decided that nothing he had to say would do anything to lessen my rage.

"Well, it's just, you're not _really _witches, are you? You can't expect to match purebloods, after all. If I were you, I wouldn't bother with school at all."

I had absolutely no idea what any of that had meant, but I was right about the rage not lessening. I really wanted to say something intelligent and witty and hurtful right back at him, but my tongue was tied in anger and the only reply I could think of was _small penis_, which wasn't even remotely close to the level of insult I wanted to achieve.

"We got our Hogwarts letters, same as you." Said Mikaela coldly. At that moment, two other boys walked into the shop. Both of them were very large and very stupid looking, and they seemed to be friends of this blonde kid. All of a sudden I felt helpless and outnumbered. The blonde boy, however, seemed to have gained confidence. This was evidently so, because he no longer wasted words on politeness:

"If it were up to my father, you and your lot would have been barred from Hogwarts ages ago, and I think so, too. Wizardry aught to be left to proper wizards."

Just as I opened my mouth to say, "Small penis!" a new idea formed in my head (thank goodness).

"What a genius!" I exclaimed. "Proper wizards! I agree, too many _non-proper _wizards are being allowed into Hogwarts. Bloody idiots that don't even know what a _Grim_ is." I laughed gleefully at the stupid look on his stupid face. "You know what a Grim is, don't you? It's rudimentary Divination." The blonde boy and his comrades looked at each other like they were trying to figure something out, and after a moment the blonde one looked at me and said,

"You're making that up. Think you're the only one who knows how to pick up a book, Mudblood?"

Damn, my cover had been blown. Quick, think of something witty, ruthless, and intelligent!

"Small penis." I said cleverly.

This had all the effect I was hoping for even though I had lost the respect of everyone in the room, especially Madame Malkin, who had just re-entered with an armful of new robes. She shot me a dirty look as she handed them to me and Mikaela and I hustled ourselves out of there before a rather perturbed blonde kid could work it out.

As little good as that encounter did anyone, especially me, Mikaela kept going into giggle fits over it, and that brightened our day even further. Neither of us knew what a mudblood was, but it seemed sort of like a swear word, the way the two ogre-boys had acted when he said it, like it was so brave and cool of their blonde friend to use it. Wizard boys were the same as regular sixth-grade boys, I realized unhappily.

In the pet store, Mikaela bought an owl. He was a large very pretty moon-faced barn owl, and I really wanted one too, but I figured that I probably couldn't take care of any more than my cat, and I could probably borrow hers if I needed to send any mail. I came very close to buying a bat, but they weren't on the list of animals. Only cats, rats, owls, or toads.

That's when we ran into our mothers again, who were apparently having a marvelous time on their own, both holding little half-empty cups of ice cream. Neither of them seemed to understand the gravity of our shopping success that day, and both seemed keen on ending the shopping expedition.

"Well, you've got all your stuff! We can go back to the hotel and hot tub whenever," said my mom passive-aggressively.

"I still need to get my wand!"

"Kaela, have you tried any of those... fizzing whizbees? I was just thinking we could stop at that candy shop." Asked Mikaela's mom in a lighthearted voice.

"No. I'll try them when we get our wands." Said Mikaela in the opposite sort of voice.

"Maaaaaaan! We gave you guys a whole hour and a half!" Complained my mom.

"We had to get fitted for robes! Just let us finish." I said.

"Okay, how about another half hour, and then we go?" She bargained.

"If we're done by then." I said sternly. We set off for Ollivanders, but first came across a shop called "Jimmy Kiddel's Wonderful Wands" that our mothers suggested we stop at. They were denied.

Mr. Ollivander was by far the strangest person I met that day, including Draco Malfoy and all the Gringotts goblins. I liked him immediately. He had strange pale silver eyes like mirrors, and even though he was very old, he had a very strong energy about him. Mikaela went first for her wand. First, Mr. Ollivander had to measure her all over again. All the while he was making unusual small talk, and after a few minutes he presented her with a very pretty brown wand.

"English Oak, dragon heartstring." He said professionally.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" She asked.

"Give it a wave," said Ollivander. He watched expectantly as she waved her new wand, and nothing happened. He snatched the wand from out of her hand and went rummaging through his boxes for another.

"Poplar, Phoenix Feather." He said. She had barely touched it when he changed his mind and took it away.

"Larch, Dragon Heartstring." He said. Mikaela waved this golden wand and caused half a shelf of wands to topple over.

"Oh! Sorry!" She said. But Mr. Ollivander was busy rifling through those very boxes. He seemed to have some sort of idea all of a sudden, and soon pulled out a wand that was almost the same color as Mikaela's hair.

"Elm, Phoenix Feather." He said proudly. Mikaela had only just grabbed onto it when red sparks began to shoot out from where she had touched, and Mr. Ollivander looked very pleased. "You should be quite happy. With a wand like that, you're bound to go places. A complex power, that wand has, if you choose to pursue it. The elm is known for it's selectivity and advanced capabilities, but with a phoenix core... a complex power." Mikaela looked simultaneously ecstatic and confused.

After that, it was my turn. Ollivander tried out three wands on me. One was Vine, Unicorn Hair. This was clearly a mistake, because it started a fire, which was exciting for me, as I had never started a fire in a shop before. But Ollivander put it out without a glance with only a wave of his own wand. The second one was Beech, Phoenix Feather. That one didn't do a thing for me. The last one, a handsome blonde piece of wood with swirls carved into the handle, was

"Larch, Phoenix Feather." Ollivander confidently handed it to me, and I felt a very happy warm feeling tickling up my arm, like my new wand was saying hello. A faint light gleamed around the tip. Ollivander clapped and said, "Another strange, complex piece of work, that wand. A wand of hidden talents. Confident wand. A strange wood, larch. And paired with phoenix, you're bound to make wonderful things happen. How magnificent!" He exclaimed, much to the amazement and confusion of me, Mikaela, and our mothers. We paid for the two wands and were about to leave as Mr. Ollivander said, "And on a side note, if I'm not mistaken, the phoenix who gave the feather for Ms. Johnson's wand and the one who gave the feather for Ms. McParlan's wand were brothers, twins, which is quite rare in itself. If you were wondering."

We weren't wondering, or at least I wasn't but for the rest of the day, it was all we could talk about. After we got the boring stuff, cauldrons and glass phials and telescopes, etc., we were treated to ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, where I got a double scoop of cherry cheesecake and chocolate nuts. The sun was sinking lower, and the sky was brilliant red. Overall, it was probably the best day ever. We left Diagon Alley and took a bus back to our hotel in London where we arrived before the sun had left the sky.

My mom and I got back to our room. The bus ride over had allowed all the exhaustion that had built up over the day to sink in, and when I got to my bed I was thoroughly ready for sleep. Except it occurred to me as slipped off, what if all of today had been a dream? And then I couldn't sleep for a long time.

At least, that's what I thought. I didn't remember falling asleep, but when I woke up it was 10:00, which gave us only an hour to get to platform nine-and-three-quarters.


	2. Chapter 2: The Hogwarts Express

**Chapter 2: The Hogwarts Express**

I think we would have missed the train if I hadn't accidentally rammed Mikaela into the pillar between platforms 9 and 10 with my cart. Mom was interrogating the train guy, who looked too teenaged and knobby to be working at a train station, and Mikaela's owl was making little screeches, chattering conversationally to no one in particular, sort of monotonously. I felt like I had been standing there with my hands on my trolley for days, rubbing off the varnish on the metal bar with my bored, sweaty palms.

"Platform 10! Train to Breton leaving in 15 minutes! All aboard for Breton!" The loudspeaker droned. Mikaela, who had to be just as impatient as I, pushed her cart just in front of mine and sat at the foot of it, on top of an overstuffed suitcase, and started to tease her new owl by wiggling her fingers at it.

The monotony of it lasted forever. I sighed and focused on daydreaming that I had a pet owl named Rowan, who turned out to be a demon-owl, but who I taught the value of kindness. I arrived at school with the most wonderful owl of anyone, who could shoot fire out of her beak and turn into a dragon-owl that I could ride, and when an army of undead attacked the school, me and Rowan saved everyone by dropping rocks on them, and then

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOT!" Screamed a train whistle. I jumped out of my fantasy with an intense sensation of falling forwards in alarm, and I felt both my arms jolt outwards in surprise. My cart rocketed forwards into Mikaela's, which she was still sitting on, and propelled her hard straight into a brick pillar.

"Whaaaa!" was the weird, half-surprised, half-apologetic sound that escaped me.

"AAAAAAAAAH!" Shouted Mikaela as she went straight through the brick at high speed. I was really surprised when she just passed through it and disappeared.

"Platform 10! Leaving the station!" The loudspeaker said.

"Oy, whatchoo think you're doing?" Asked the knobby pale train man.

"Um..." I said.

"Nevermind!" Said my mother happily, patting the train man on the back. "Thanks for the help!" She shoved him off on his way. She turned to me. "Okay, how did she just do that?" She asked, patting the brick. I tentatively touched the pillar, feeling something that was sort of solid, but also quite obviously not. I took a deep breath and stepped through slowly, and as I did, my body was enveloped in a sort of jello-y wall that passed through me on the inside as well as the outside. It wasn't unpleasant, just unsettling.

The sight that met me on the other side was sort of disappointing, it was just another train. But half the kids and adults were gawking at it like it was some sort of majestic wondertrain. That's how Mikaela was looking at it, at least.

Mom and Mary McParlan appeared behind me with my cart, which I had forgotten.

Mom said goodbye, and she was crying, so I started crying, and it struck me again that I was going to be without my family until Christmas.

All this was forgotten, though, as soon as I got on the train. Mikaela and I were among the last to board, so there weren't many cabins with room in them. One we passed had just two boys in it, who didn't look completely unpleasant but we knew better; they were eleven-year old boys. So we passed them up. Another cabin we passed had the blonde butthead from the robe shop, Malfoy, and his two ogre-magi. They were all three laughing about something that was very obviously stupid. We finally came across a cabin with just two people in it, a bushy-haired, toothy girl who was emitting sound like a radio, and a short, pale, uncertain-looking boy who was completely silent and seeming very uncomfortable.

"Hello!" I said as I sat down next to the boy. The girl finished her sentence and gave me a slightly perturbed look at being interrupted.

"Well, hello." She said, head cocked. The cabin was silent. Mikaela looked as uncomfortable as the boy.

"Can we sit here?" I asked, feeling silly.

"I suppose, I mean, I don't see any reason why not." Said the girl. "I'm Hermione Granger. This is Neville," She added, nodding at the boy. He raised a weak hand.

"I'm Madeline," I said. "but people call me Chuck. Chuck-Sunny-Bun-Bun. It's my nickname."

"They don't," said Mikaela, ruining my foolproof plan.

"This is Mikaela. No nickname." I said indignantly.

"Well, I should think not. From what I've heard, Hogwarts is more of a _formal_ sort of school, where teachers address you on a last name basis, like some muggle high-end boarding schools. Or perhaps, you wouldn't know about muggle schools?" She asked like a question. She never let us answer. "I'm muggle-born, so I have a lot to catch up on. I think it's fascinating, how little wizards and muggles really know about each other. There'll be a lot of muggle-born witches and wizards at the school, I expect, except in Slytherin. Personally, I wouldn't want to be in Slytherin. Of course, that's really for the Sorting to decide, but if I could choose, I would choose Gryffindor or Ravenclaw; I wouldn't want to be a Hufflepuff either." I didn't know what any of that meant, but luckily I didn't have to ask. "Gryffindor," continued Hermione Granger, "Is famous for bravery, and from what I've read, the best wizards come from Gryffindor, even though it's Ravenclaw that's famous for intelligence. Slytherin's supposed to be cunning and cleverness, but overall they sound like a thick bunch, and almost _all_ dark wizards have been Slytherins. And then, of course, there's Hufflepuff."

If Mikaela had been excited about talking and messing around on the train ride, all her hopes were dashed. The only one talking was Ms. Formal Granger, and there was certainly no messing happening anywhere in the vicinity.

This was all before the train left the station.

I had a round silver CD case with one CD in the whole world. The CD had five songs on it, and after listening the first two times through, you got annoyed. As the train trudging along across the countryside to the high-pitched never-ending narration of Hermione Granger came into it's second hour, I pulled out my CD case and popped on the headphones halfway through one of her sentences. She didn't seem to mind, despite the momentary disapproving look that passed over Mikaela's face, followed by a look of jealousy. She had not brought a CD player.

I think another hour went by before I started paying attention again. Mikaela had somehow found some way to get a few phrases inbetween Hermione's long paragraphical sentences. They seemed to be enjoying eachother's conversation, regardless. I took off the headphones and decided to engage.

"...Do you know what's going to happen to our pets?" Asked Mikaela.

"I've heard there's a special room just for the owls, but I don't know about cats or rats. I don't suppose they'll allow us to keep them in our _dormitories_. I didn't bring a pet, I don't have one. I doubt my parents would want an owl making a mess in their house."

"They do," Spoke up Neville for the first time.

"What?" Asked Mikaela and Hermione.

"Pets live in the dorms. They can go wherever, except you have to keep an eye on them. I'm always losing mine," He added regretfully.

"What sort of animal do you have?" I asked, thinking of Lilly, who could use a friend.

"A toad." Said Neville with an embarrassed flush in his cheeks. "Trevor. I begged my gran to let me get an owl, but she didn't trust me with one. Told me I might lose it, or accidentally sit on it, or..." Neville shifted uncomfortably for a moment. As if to reassure himself, he opened up his bag, and a look of dread washed over his face. "Oh, no!" He moaned mournfully. "I've lost Trevor!"

I let out an involuntary giggle. Mikaela was fighting back a grin. Hermione, however, looked quite serious.

"You can't have lost your toad already, we haven't even made it to the school yet! He's got to be on the train somewhere." Neville was slightly cheered up by this.

"Unless he jumped out a window," I added helpfully.

"Let's look for him." Hermione commanded, ignoring me completely. Mikaela jumped up valiantly, and I reluctantly joined her and the Toad Rescue Team. We spread out over the train, with Hermione, Neville, and Mikaela taking that car and me taking all the other ones that I hadn't explored.

The back cars had mostly seventh-years in it, and they were very scary to be around. They all seemed huge compared to me, huge and grown-up. A lot of them were swearing, which made me want to get out of there, because I had never and would never, ever use bad language like that. There was also a snack cart which was beginning to make it's way down the train. I would have bought some sweets if the rude seventh years hadn't been swearing so much and telling me to get out of the way of the cart, that I was blocking it, stop trying to pass the damn cart and just get out of the way! So rude.

When I got back to our cabin, it was just me, Mikaela, and Neville. We seemed to have lost Hermione.

"Phew, finally, anyone want to talk?" I asked brightly.

"What do you mean?" Asked Mikaela, who was clearly not as turned off by Hermione as I. "She wasn't _that_ bad," she added.

"Did you ever find his toad?" I asked.

"No." Said Neville sadly.

The sweet trolley came by. Neville didn't want anything at first, but when he found out that both of us were muggle-born (which of course he didn't know because Hermione choked out all other sound) and started suggesting different sorts of candy that we would want to try. Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans didn't sound delicious, and Neville seemed mostly opposed to them. Mikaela wanted to try them, however. I bought two chocolate frogs and a peppermint toad.

"Careful, they-" Neville started as I opened my frog. I was startled by what looked like a live frog jumping out at me. It made for the window, but I cleverly flailed my arms wildly in surprise and slapped it onto the floor, where it decided to stay mostly still.

"Is it a _real_ frog?" I asked, picking it up and examining it.

"No," Said Neville, "I don't think so..." he continued uncertainly. I took a tentative bite. The frog kicked one of it's chocolate legs, but it was undoubtably chocolate, and nothing more. What's more, it was good chocolate, more like Dove and less like Cadbury. I broke off the hind legs and gave them to Neville, who didn't say thank you, and just sat there looking amazed.

Okay, so Neville was a dweeb. But I sort of liked him.

"BLUGH!" Blughed Mikaela, making a face and spitting a bean out into a napkin. "Liver and onions. I just know that's what it tastes like. You don't want to try these."

I plucked a blue bean from the center of the pile and popped it into my mouth.

"Mmm! Violets!" I said happily.

"What? No fair!" Mikaela picked another bean, this one also blue. "Blueberry pie," She chewed thoughtfully. "Try one, Neville!" She prompted. He nervously reached out a white hand and slowly picked a pink bean. He looked like a dying man, I thought. His shoulders fell in relief as he chewed.

"Birthday cake," he said.

We had a load of fun, trying all the beans. My favorite one that I had tasted like rosewater, but the most interesting one tasted like coconut and seawater. Mikaela searched fruitlessly for another birthday cake flavored bean, but the other pink ones turned out to be peach-raspberry, strawberry milkshake, and salmon. After the salmon one she gave up on it. Neville stuck almost entirely to white beans, and I couldn't see why because almost all of them turned out to be soap flavored.

"I once got a chili pepper one once," he said, "and it burned my tongue for days."

Hours passed rather easily. The trolley lady had offered pumpkin juice, but it sounded too horrid to try. Now we were wishing we had bought some, because after so many odd-tasting beans, Mikaela, Neville, and I were desperately thirsty.

"D'you think they'll feed us at the school?" I asked longingly.

"_D'you think they'll feed us at the school?_" Mimicked a drawling, snide, familiar and unwelcome voice. I turned my head toward the short blonde manchild standing in the gateway with his bodyguards. "Crabbe," he said, motioning to the shorter one, "and Goyle. I don't think I've introduced them."

"Hello, Crabbe and Goyle, I'm Madeline Johnson." I said pleasantly. They didn't say anything. "If you don't have anything to say, please leave."

"Doesn't want to talk to us, then?" He got a little closer. "The mudblood thinks she's too high-and-mighty?"

Neville gasped.

"You can't say-" He started, but was cut off by an absolutely killing look from Draco. "You c-can't call someone..."

"And I suppose _you're_ going to stop me? Who're you, anyway?" Draco surveyed Neville, who couldn't have looked more like a gopher cornered by coyote.

"N-Neville," he started, "L-l-lo-"

"Longbottom," sneered Draco haughtily as he leaned back and puffed up his shoulders, looking down his nose at the three of us. "You're the boy who lives with his _grammy_. Parents went mad, did they? Probably out of shame from having to parade around with a fat ugly baby all the time, wouldn't you think, boys?" Crabbe and Goyle laughed forcedly.

"_That's enough_." Said Mikaela. "You have _no right_ to say those things. You don't know what you're talking about. You're acting really stupid right now, and I don't know why you think it's so funny, because all you're doing is making yourselves look like idiots. You're just being mean and rude on purpose, and we don't want you in here anymore."

"We didn't want you in here to begin with." I added. "I don't know what your problem is, but none of us are going to help you solve it."

"Leave." Repeated Mikaela like a stern and terrifying velociraptor threatening to charge.

"I think I'll leave when I want to." Said Draco nastily. I got extremely angry. Who did he think he was?

"You underestimate us," I said to him, suddenly remembering something Hermione had said. "you obviously don't know a thing about muggle culture. For instance, when you spend your life running around on a public playground, you have to know how to land a punch or a kick to survive. Mikaela and I-" I gestured to Mikaela, who was starting to grasp where I was going with this, "are _particularly_ fond of the public playgrounds. If you don't leave in the next minute, we'll show you what we mean. You wizard children are coddled, and maybe you have a headstart on magic or something, but I see that you don't have your wand right now." Ha HA! I was a genius. Except I think maybe I was starting to cry a little with anger, but no real tears had escaped. I willed them not to; I was asserting my manhood and could show no weakness.

To my dismay, Draco laughed. I really hoped I didn't actually have to punch him, because I was all talk and no walk; my arms had about the same strength as a pair of toothpicks, and I didn't want to hurt my hand on his face. Also, Crabbe and Goyle were enormous and looming. I had the sudden realization that they were anything but coddled. But luckily for all of us in car 6B, Draco and his band of merry men left, still laughing, like I was some bit of fluff that could barely bother them. I sat down, fuming.

"Holy crap, Maddie! You can't just say you could punch someone!" Mikaela gasped, bursting into laughter. I started laughing as well, even though I could still feel anger coursing through my body like lightning.

"I would have, too." I said, lying to myself. "So, so far, we've made three enemies, and zero friends." I said. "Except for Neville," I added, though he wasn't really a _friend_, per say, just a kid whose honor we had defended.

"And Hermione," said Mikaela. I didn't say anything to agree.

"I like having enemies, it's fun. I want to find some more." I suggested.

"You're going to get yourself beat up, and me, too." Mikaela replied. "Neville, are you all right?" She asked our new "friend".

"Yes". He replied, looking visibly unhappy.

"Don't let him get to you, he's a douche." Said Mikaela.

"A total douche, as in, you couldn't make a douchier person if you wanted to." I added. "Great hair, though. I wonder how much of his own _boogers_ he uses to slick it back like that?"

"Eew!" laughed Mikaela. When you're eleven, "booger" is the funniest word in the English language, regardless of it's context.

The sky darkened. I only got thirstier.

"Maybe they're not taking us to school at all, and instead we'll all be forced into a giant sausage grinder, and they'll sell the sausage to fast food companies." I speculated, making Neville freeze up.

A new head popped into our cabin. It was a boy, a few years older than me, with dark skin and hair, who looked ecstatic.

"Did you hear, firsties?! Harry Potter's comin' to Hogwarts! He's on _this train_!"

The head disappeared. There was a moment of silence.

"What?" Mikaela wondered aloud.

"_Harry Potter_," muttered Neville. We didn't get an answer out of him after that.

The train stopped finally, which was good, because I had to pee tremendously, and I didn't want to use the train toilet because I had to walk past Draco to get there. We disembarked and were greeted by an unusually large bearded man with a lamp. It was extraordinarily dark, and I completely lost Mikaela in the crowd, and then I completely lost myself in the crowd, and I didn't comprehend anything that happened until I found myself sitting in a rowboat.

I was in there with three other people I had never seen before. There was a black-haired boy with glasses, a wispy blonde girl who was small and willowy, and the opposite sort of girl, who was very large with a jutting jaw. Normally, I would be uncomfortable, but being on a boat at night put me in my element. Lakes were my birth ground and boats were my cradles, and the fact that we didn't have to row was very comforting. The lakes propelled themselves across the black lake, which was lit by floating lanterns. We all marveled at the sight, but even more magnificent was the castle that was looming like a stone leviathan on a mountain over the lake, casting a brilliant reflection of gold and silver on the glasslike black water.

_That's Hogwarts_, I realized. _That's the wizard school_.


	3. Chapter 3: The Sorting Hat

**Chapter 3: The Sorting Hat**

We docked our boats, or rather, they docked themselves, and we stepped out into the night, walking carefully through the dark up to the amazing stone castle, which got larger and more extraordinary the closer we got.

The enormous wild-looking man knocked heavily on the door, and it swung open immediately. The woman who greeted us looked like all my worst suspicions about English boarding schools rolled into one human being. She had black hair tinged with gray, pulled back into a tight, flawless bun, and long green robes with a remarkably high Victorian-esque collar. She looked stern and nunnish, as in I could see her hitting someone with a ruler.

"The first years, Professor McGonogall." Said the large hairy man.

"Thank you, Hagrid, I will take them from here." She replied without smiling.

She let us into a large entry hall, lit with torches (which was cool) with a single staircase in the center and hallways leading left and right. It was very large, and in the darkness, I couldn't see the ceiling. I had never been in a castle before. I imagined that it might look like a giant cathedral, but it didn't. It looked like a place where stories from "days of yore" would happen.

We followed Professor McGonogall to the left hallway into an empty chamber.

"This is it," I told Mikaela, who had appeared from behind me. "This is where the sausage grinding will happen."

We were all stuffed in there, shoulder-to-shoulder, and I could barely see over the tall heads in front of me.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said the scary nun woman. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the great hall, you will be sorted into your houses."

"_That's just code for sausage-grinding._" I whispered at Mikaela, who was beginning to look a little annoyed at my wearing preoccupation with this theory. I got elbowed.

"The Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts." McGonogall droned on and on. I wondered if we got to pick who our family was, or if she was just going to draw names out of a hat like most teachers did in Elementary School? That sort of sorting usually didn't pan out well for me, because every year since second grade, I had got put into a different class than Mikaela with a bunch of really annoying people who I hated, and she got put in the class with the nice teacher and the funny kids.

"You will have classes with your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

When she said "house", did she mean like, a HOUSE house, or what was she talking about? Was it a British thing?

"Each house has it's own noble history, and each house has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, and any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

Mikaela and I looked at each other, silently celebrating that we never broke any rules, and whatever house we were in would gain points by the thousand because of it.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

"_Wait, does that mean there's a test?!_" I whispered nervously. _"I didn't study!_" This notion alarmed everyone within earshot.

"_I don't know, I don't know!_" Mikaela whispered back. Professor McGonogall was looking out at several students in a sort of judgmental way.

"I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." Said the Professor. She walked out of the dead silent room. The moment the heavy doors clinked shut behind her, everyone burst into nervous chatter.

"We don't have to pass a test, do we?" asked a large girl with curly hair in terror.

"That redhead said we have to wrestle a troll!" Squeaked a tiny boy.

"I'm not worried," said Hermione. "I spent all summer practicing spells. I wonder which one I'll need? They won't ask us to perform any jinxes, I expect." I stopped paying attention to what she was saying now and tried to remember what she had said before.

"Gryffindor is for brave people, Ravenclaw is for smart people, Slytherin is for bad people, but what the heck is a Hufflepuff?" I wondered.

"We're both brave, I think." Said Mikaela thoughtfully. "I think we should try for Gryffindor."

"But Ravenclaw is for smart people!" I argued. "We're both smart!"

"I'd never get into Ravenclaw!" Mikaela had, since the middle of fifth grade, gotten into the habit of underestimating herself.

"Yes you would, and so would I. We're creative geniuses."

"That's not the same as being smart," said Mikaela. I thought about that. I was really, really bad at math and science and history, so did that disqualify me from Ravenclaw?

"What about Hufflepuff?" I suggested.

"What's Hufflepuff?" asked Mikaela.

"I don't know. Maybe it's the _best_ house."

"Ha!" said a voice behind us. We turned around to see Draco Malfoy.

"How dare you laugh at Hufflepuff?!" Mikaela shook her fist at him. Draco said nothing, just sneered and walked back through the crowd to his friends, giving me the impression that he had come over to us just to do that one thing. I wriggled through the crowd and grabbed Neville's shoulder.

"You grew up with wizards, right?" I asked. He nodded. "What the hell is a Hufflepuff?"

"Erm," said Neville, who was more nervous about the Sorting than anyone else, apparently. "I think it's for people who aren't really brave, or smart, or cunning, like me, probably." He said.

I didn't have time to encourage Neville. At that moment, the entire room was flooded with pearly-white, transparent ghosts, something that none of us were prepared for. It was made all the more startling because several people screamed at once, which made me scream as well. They all seemed rather nonchalant, especially compared to all of us, who were screaming still. The ghosts were dressed oddly, like from medieval times. They glided across the room, arguing, taking absolutely no notice of us, even though we were screaming.

"Forgive and forget, I say! We aught to give him a second chance!" Said a little round man who was dressed like a monk. He probably was a monk.

"My dear friar," said a ghost with a ruffed collar, like Shakespeare, "Haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and, you know, he's not even really a ghost!" He looked down all of a sudden. "I say, what are you all doing here?" He asked. No one said anything. I doubted even the wizard-born students had known many ghosts, and here was a whole troop of them.

"New students!" Exclaimed the monk. "About to be sorted, I suppose? Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" He said proudly. "My old house, you know."

"Move along, now." McGonogall had appeared behind us, causing me to scream again. She eyed me with distain. "The sorting ceremony is about to start."

We were led through some gigantic wooden doors with odd patterning into a magnificent giant room. It was more than magnificent, it was... enchanted. Magical. No torches here, just candles, millions of little lights floating in the sky. And it _was _ a sky, not a ceiling. A midnight blue sky full of stars. Bobbing through the crowd, trying desperately to get a better glimpse of everything as one of the shortest kids there. I couldn't see everything, but I glimpsed four long, long tables on the grand stone floor, another long, long table with teachers looking like a panel of judges.

Professor McGonogall led us in a line up to the front table, where we stood like freaks in a freak show, staring stupidly out at all the other students.

I didn't know what was going on. I was certainly terrified. I couldn't see Mikaela, or Neville, or even Hermione, probably because they were behind me and not in front of me, but all of a sudden I felt alone and very out of place.

McGonogall put a brown shabby hat on a stool. She looked at it rather fondly. I didn't question it. I just accepted the hat.

Everyone was staring at it, so I looked at it too, and it started coming to me in slow bouts that perhaps this hat had something to do with the sorting.

All of a sudden, the hat moved. A rip opened like a mouth, making just about every first year jump.

"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

Okay, so we were to be sorted into our houses by a singing hat. I felt relieved. Everyone applauded once the hat had finished, and it "bowed", as much as a hat can bow.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat, and sit on the stool to be sorted." Said McGonogall, who had a long roll of paper in her hands. "Bones, Susan" she called. Susan Bones got up out of the line of first-years and went to put on the hat. She sat on the stool as the hat fell over her eyes. In less than three seconds, it shouted,

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Susan jumped up and ran to the Hufflepuff table, who all welcomed her. She shook the hand of an extraordinarily handsome boy with blonde hair and startling brown eyes.

They seemed friendly enough, but all the same, I hoped I didn't get put in Hufflepuff. All the other houses, even Slytherin, had something going for them, but Hufflepuff just seemed weak and plain and ordinary. The last thing I wanted, after finding out I was magical and being shipped off to wizard school where candles float and hats talk, was to be plain and ordinary. It would be like settling for the role of "extra" in a movie that I could have been the star of.

"Boot, Terry." Called McGonogall.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat when it touched his head. He went off to join the kids at the Ravenclaw table. I thought I should be in Ravenclaw.

The first Gryffindor was named Lavender Brown. She looked excited. I decided that Gryffindor was probably the house everyone wanted to be in, which made me not want to be in it.

Millicent Bulstrode, the jaw-girl from my boat, became the first Slytherin. They were the ones who were supposed to be all bad.

After that, it got boring, as all the students were sorted. I was extremely anxious. My stomach was turning. I didn't know what to hope for! I didn't know what was going to happen! The hat moved so fast, it would be only an instant on my head, and then the next seven years of my life would be set. What if I got into a different house than Mikaela? It didn't look like any of us had a choice in the matter. The hat was on, then it was off. Some of the students took seconds longer than others, but that was it.

Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor. What did that mean? Oh my god. I was so nervous. I was starting to shake like Neville.

There weren't a lot of Brits with J names. Soon, it was my turn. I walked forward in a sort of jerky manner, and stared wildly as I put the hat on my head. Each singular moment felt like it lasted forever. Every minuscule motion my arm and hand mad was like a dead heavy weight being lifted for hours. The hat slipped over my eyes, and everything was dark. I heard a little whisper in my ear.

"Don't be so terrified, I'll put you where you belong. Hmm... a strong mind, I see."

"Ravenclaw?" I asked in my head.

"Difficult," said the hat.

"Not Hufflepuff." I pleaded all of a sudden. "I don't want to go in Hufflepuff."

"I can see that, and it's certain you belong elsewhere. But where?" It asked itself rhetorically.

"I have no preferences, except I don't want to go in Hufflepuff."

"Don't worry, I will put you where you belong." The hat reassured me again.

"SLYTHERIN!" Shouted the hat atop my head. I took it off numbly. _What the hell?!_ I thought. In a daze, I looked around for the Slytherin table, which I had evidently lost the place of since I put the hat on. I hadn't been looking much in that direction, anyways. I'd just assumed I wouldn't be in Slytherin. That was just an assumption I'd made.

I stumbled down into the mess of the Great Hall, and found an empty seat next to the unfortunate-looking Millicent Bullstrode, far away from Crabbe and Goyle, who were apparently going to be part of my "family" forever now. I looked up desperately at Mikaela, who was staring in disbelief at me. _Oh, no_, I realized. Mikaela would never be in Slytherin.

"Don't look so upset." said a tall, black-haired girl who looked a few years older than me. I didn't realize that I must look extremely upset. She gave me a smile. "Other people won't admit it, but Slytherin is the _best_ house. Chuck out anything you've heard. They're all just jealous," she grinned madly and lowered her voice, "or _scared_. We've taken the house cup seven years in a row, you know."

"I'm not upset." I lied. "I thought I might be in Ravenclaw."

The black-haired girl scoffed. "Really, though, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff have never come anywhere close to winning. It's always been us and the Gryffs, neck-in-neck, till we come out on top. Serves them right, those pompous, high-and-mighty... Anyways, you want to win, right?" She asked. "Or at least have a shot at winning? You'll get that with us, not with Ravenclaw."

I did like winning.

"And just _wait_ till you see our common room. You'll love it, guaranteed. Do you like... being underwater? The way the sun breaks and moves through waves?" My eyes widened.

"Well, our common room and our dorms are down in the dungeons, with windows facing out underneath the Hogwarts Lake. We see the giant squid go by on a regular basis."

_Giant squidI?! _I thought excitedly. I was grinning now.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Shouted the hat. Neville was wearing it now. He jumped up from his stool and ran down to the table with the hat still on his head. A bunch of people laughed. Some of the other Slytherins sneered.

"Poor git," said the black-haired girl.

Malfoy strutted up there like peacock. I already knew what was going to happen, but I sincerely hoped that it wasn't anyways.

"SLYTHERIN!" Shouted the hat, barely touching his head.

Damn.

He ran down smugly to sit next to Crabbe and Goyle. I would have to spend "free time" with him now.

"That kid is a jerk," I said aloud, hoping to persuade the Slytherins around me who didn't know.

"He's one of us now, though, which means we protect him." Said the black-haired girl firmly.

"Plus, he's a Malfoy. They're loaded, I hear." Said a boy next to her. "Think we can get some new Quidditch gear out of him?"

"Shut up, Marcus, he'll hear you." said the girl. "Maybe." she added.

It was Mikaela's turn. She looked more nervous than I had felt. She was pale white and thoughtful-looking. She gingerly placed the hat on her head. Something was going through her mind, I could tell. She had made some decision.

The hat sat on her head for more than a whole minute. I was frozen.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Shouted the hat.


	4. Chapter 4: Slytherin

**Chapter 4: Slytherin**

Mikaela took off the hat quickly. First, she looked at me solemnly, then turned to the Gryffindor table and did a tiny smile. But the smile was gone as soon as it had come, and I could tell that she was thinking the same thing that I was:

We were both alone now, neither of us knew anyone in our new houses. We had been eachothers' only _real_ friends ever since first grade, and neither of us had any idea how to make new ones.

In third grade, they decided to have assigned seats at lunch, and they split up Mrs. Harla's and Mrs. Abraham's classes. Mikaela and I would wave to eachother from a table away, but for the most part, lunch was horribly boring, and I was completely silent the whole time. Was Slytherin going to be like that? Would I have no friends again? For _seven years_?

There was a great hush over the whole room when McGonogall called

"Potter, Harry". He was the famous one. I recognized him from the boat ride over. I had already decided to hate him when I found out he was famous on the train, but when I watched him step up to the stool, I saw how cute and little he was. He looked weak and afraid.

"So that's Harry Potter." said Flint, eyeing him. "Not so impressive, hmm, Gemma?"

"Ssh. He could be worth something." Said the black-haired girl, Gemma.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Announced the hat. Gemma let out a disappointed sigh and slunk back in her chair. Flint slapped the table.

"Nevermind," Gemma said.

The sorting went on after that. The last person to be sorted was Wilkowske, Sophie, into Ravenclaw, and then the sorting was over.

I wasn't feeling completely dismal. So, okay. I was split up from my friend for the next seven years, and was now in league with a bunch of dark wizards, and I would have to see Draco every day for the next seven years, and apparently there was some sort of blood rivalry between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins, but you know, at least I was here. I was a student at Hogwarts. I had a wand and a set of robes. I was going to learn magic.

I looked up at the panel of teachers. I could only describe them as a colorful bunch. Far to the left was the enormous bearded man, who was thumbs-upping Harry Potter in Gryffindor. There was a skinny sort of man with a large purple turban, who was fidgeting a lot. Next to him was a pale, inky-haired man wearing all black and no smile. I made a note to stay out of his way. There was McGonogall, who equaled him in humorlessness, and there was a friendly-looking fat little woman with grey hair and an earthy demeanor. There was an even littler man, about the height of a goblin, who was smiling broadly. In the center was a merlin-esque wizard, with a long white beard, a crooked nose, and half-moon spectacles. He wore a pointed wizard's cap. I figured he must be the man in charge around here.

He stood up and looked super happy at us.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!" He beamed. "Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

There are no words to describe the extent of adoration I now felt for this wizard.

"Thank you." He said, sitting down.

Everyone jumped up to applaud, me harder than others.

"He's fantastic!" I squealed.

"Straight-up loony, though." Said Gemma. "Got a soft spot for the Gryffs."

"What he's got is a vendetta against _us._" Complained Flint. "He rigs things against us, you know. He'd better be replaced soon, or I'm leaving."

"Flint's just sore 'cause he lost the Quidditch cup last year to Hufflepuff." Said Gemma.

"_On a technicality_." He hissed madly.

"Technicality, bullshit. I saw you out there, frolicking around in the rain like a lumbering ballerina while Hufflepuff put about a hundred and eighty points between you, even if you _hadn't_ been penalized for bludgering Diggory's arm the moment it touched the snitch, you still would have lost."

"If it wasn't for Dumbledore accusing us of cheating, WE WOULD HAVE WON!" He bellowed.

"Marcus, you bloody oaf, _a hundred and eighty points_! The snitch is one fifty! Do the math, genius."

I looked down at the table, noticing that all of a sudden, the great hall was full of food. Millicent Bullstrode was shoveling bacon and sausage, just straight-up bacon and sausage, onto her golden plate. The bacon and sausage dishes kept refilling themselves, though, so there was enough for everyone (though Millicent had taken probably six helpings worth).

There was literally everything anyone could wish for on the table. I wondered if maybe the magic plates could tell what our favorite foods were, or if whoever was in charge of supplying them had picked the widest array possible? A lot of what was on the table was meat, and even more was British comfort food, and there was also candy. I excavated the thing I had been most hoping for from the growingly massive struggle going on in the center of the table to get as much food as possible. It was a small bowl of chicken ginger curry with rice, which, even though it was so small and close to me that I wondered if it was a personal gift, refilled over and over so that if everyone had wanted some, they could have had all they wanted.

No green beans, but there were peas, which were green, and good with the curry. The most wonderful thing of all was my goblet, which filled periodically with all sorts of things I liked: Iced chai, raspberry tea, and pink lemonade. Still thirsty from the train ride over, I drank it all, aware that I would have to pee really bad in about twenty minutes.

There wasn't a lot of talk going on over the sounds of plates and forks clinking, but at one point we heard the Gryffindor table let out a few shrieks when a ghost decided to unhinge his head.

"Nearly Headless Nick," explained Gemma. "the Gryffindor house ghost. Whoever was in charge of beheading him wasn't qualified enough, evidently. Now he's sort of a show-off; he does that all the time." She motioned to down where Draco was sitting, next to a very creepy, blood-covered ghost, who he was slowly inching away from. "We've got the Bloody Baron. Don't get on his bad side, but if you're on his good side, he'll scare people for you if you ask him, especially Gryffindors."

The feast was replaced by four giant tablefuls of dessert. Millicent, who I thought could not possibly eat any more, helped herself to four chocolate eclairs and two scoops of ice cream. I had a piece of lemon cake and a scoop of pistachio gelato.

After dessert, Dumbledore stood up again. Everyone shut up.

"Just a few more words, now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils."

"Werewolves in there, you know." Flint whispered to me, grinning.

"And a few of our _older_ students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors." Flint gave Gemma a look, and she kicked him under the table.

I had been getting sleepier and sleepier since we had arrived, and it all culminated at that moment, when my head slunk down into my arms on the table and I dozed off. I heard something maybe about the third floor.

I awoke to a tremendous cacophony of sound. Everyone seemed to be singing, though they were completely different tunes. I stood up quickly, accidentally knocking over the bench that Millicent and I had been sharing, and tried to follow. I couldn't quite tell what was going on, and stared in silence, trying to find someplace to start.

I noticed Malfoy wasn't singing, looking "too cool" to participate. So to spite him, I sang the first part of "A Whole New World" just to contribute to the noise.

Everyone clapped as the last two Gryffindors finished singing.

"Ah, Music. A magic beyond all we do here." Dumbledore said. "And now, bedtime! Off you trot!"

I resolved to make Dumbledore my first new friend.

Gemma stood up. I noticed now that she had a blue badge with a P on it in addition to her Slytherin insignia.

"First years, follow me!" She said professionally. We all got in a line behind her, which to me seemed sort of demeaning; did she think we were going to get lost?

As soon as I found my place in line, I felt two large shadows looming behind me, and at once Draco cut in front of me, followed by his two gargoyle protectors.

"Hey!" I said.

"Wizards first," he sneered. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Too sleepy to respond, I took my place at the back of the line, and began to follow, making sure to step on Goyle's heels as often as I could.

All four houses of first-years left the great hall at once, and I passed Mikaela, who was also back of the line. We all walked down the hall together in sleepy silence, but as soon as Gryffindor and Slytherin forked down different halls, Mikaela grabbed my robe and pulled me aside.

"We're still going to be friends, right?" She asked me seriously.

"Yessssss..." I said, yawning and blinking rapidly. "We've got to have _some_ classes together."

"Don't hang out with the mean people." She advised me.

"Don't expect me to start getting friendly with Goyle just cause we have to be in close proximity. And not everyone's mean," I added, hoping neither Gemma or Flint turned out to be meaner that I thought.

"Also, I think next year we should coordinate how we sing the school song."

"Okay," I said, my eyelids heavy.

"Okay." Said Mikaela. "Well, bye, then." She said, trotting off down the hallway the other Gryffindors had disappeared to.

I ran down the dark hallway that I had seen the Slytherins go down. However, I met a slight obstacle when it turned out that the hallway led to a solid wall. I groaned. Too exhausted to work out any sort of plan, I gave up immediately, sat down, and cried.

About ten minutes later, Mikaela showed up again.

"You lost your house too!" she said unhappily. I was now laying down next to the wall, half-asleep. "We should go back to the Great Hall and ask someone for directions."

"Okay." I grumbled, getting up and following her back down the hallway.

When we arrived at the Great Hall, no one was there.

"Aaaaaaaaagh!" Mikaela and I wailed at the same time. The tables and chairs had all stacked themselves against the walls, so there was nothing to lay on except the floor.

"_Now_ what do we do?" She complained.

"We die. That's what."

"Ugh! Someone has to find us eventually."

"We're going to get in trouble." I said. "They'll start docking house points already. Slytherin is going to hate me before classes even start." I was on the floor now with my arms and legs splayed out all over. I started to tear up again. "I'm soooooo tired." I moaned.

"We'll find someone who can help!" Mikaela said.

"I don't see how. Everyone is gone."

"Gryffindor disappeared up some moving stairs. Maybe we can find McGonogall or one of the prefects and they'll be able to point us in the right directions."

"Why McGonogall?" I asked.

"She's the head of Gryffindor."

"Tough luck," I said. I got up and we went all the way back down the hall. This time we both turned down Gryffindor's hall and kept walking till we got to an enormous room filled with paintings. Where it looked like there should be a staircase, there wasn't one.

"Look!" Mikaela whispered. Floating toward us like on a track was a set of stone stairs. When it got down to our floor and started to look completely solid, we carefully stepped onto it, and when it did not drop us or start moving again or turn out to be incorporeal, we walked up to the next floor.

"This is where the Gryffindors went!" Said Mikaela excitedly. "The staircase must've moved while we were talking, and now they've moved back!"

"Hmm." I said sleepily.

"Shh!" said a woman in a painting hanging just over us, who was trying to sleep apparently.

Before the staircases had a chance to move again, we hurried off down the dark hallway.

"Creepy." I said. The place had a feel of abandonment. It was pitch black and echoey, and not even a ghost was nearby. We kept walking and walking, turning when the hall did, till all traces of light were gone.

"Do we have to go down here?" Mikaela asked, suddenly nervous.

"This is where they went, you said. This is the third floor."

"_What?!_" Mikaela panicked.

"What?" I asked, confused and frightened.

"Dumbledore _just said_ not to come up here!" She had already started backing up.

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?" I argued.

"He _just said_! There's something bad up here!" She said. She grabbed my robes and started pulling me back down the dark hallway.

"What do you mean, something bad?" I yelled, the sound echoing all through the black, deserted hall.

"_Just run_!" She said back.

We spotted torchlight, and made the final turn, seeing the archway leading to the staircase room at last, and we both breathed in relief, and raced toward it as fast as possible.

All of a sudden, the two giant stone suits of armor that stood guard on either side of the archway collapsed on top of eachother in our path, completely blocking out the light and barring our escape.

Mikaela and I screamed. We were trapped.

"We're going to die!" Mikaela wailed.

I had a sudden horrible feeling that a black smoke monster was going to creep up from behind us and envelop us both.

"Well well well!" Said a very high-pitched, maniacal voice behind us. "Ickle-firsties think it's fun to run 'round the forbidden floor?"

"No! No!" Squealed Mikaela. All of a sudden, a bizarre little man appeared out of thin air.

"Naughty naughty! Bad beasties lurking, where firsties come smirking!" His face was stretched into an insanely wide grin. He cackled and flew up into the air and did a twirl, zooming down toward us. We both ducked, but the little blue man in the red suit swooped and grabbed both our robe tails, and chucked them over our heads, cackling like a madman all the way. I was thrown into even more darkness, and as I stumbled forward, I tripped over what could only have been a foot.

"AAH Ha ha ha ha!" He screeched, beside himself with laughter.

"Let us out!" Pleaded Mikaela.

A sudden blast reverberated through the hallway. Light flooded in. I untangled my head from my cloak to see that the statues had been thrown to the sides of the walls, and two figures stood in the doorway.

"Peeves!" Shouted a familiar stern voice. It was McGonogall. The little blue man cackled even more loudly and disappeared with a pop. "Honestly, the nerve of that poltergeist, endangering first-years."

Mikaela and I wasted not time in running out of the archway as soon as possible.

"Though I wouldn't forget, Professor, that these students left their groups of their own free will." Said a second person I hadn't met yet.

"We-we d-didn't mean to c-come up here..." I sputtered, realizing I had been crying. Well, I had been convinced I was going to be killed a second ago.

"I suppose you two thought yourselves above listening to your Headmaster's rules?" Asked the new person, who I recognized from the panel of teachers. He was tall with shoulder-length black hair and a rather large nose.

"The staircases moved!" Mikaela argued. Her face had tears on it too.

"You could have waited," said McGonogall, "or better yet, asked a prefect for help."

"We didn't know... we didn't know that was the third floor... I thought that's where the others had gone... I didn't know that thing, that poltergeist was up here! It would have killed us!" Yelled Mikaela. To my surprise, McGonogall chuckled.

"Peeves, you mean, Ms. McParlan? Quite an annoyance, I assure you, but in all my years of teaching, he's never killed a student."

"We're sorry." I said quickly.

"We're really sorry!" Added Mikaela.

"Be that as it may, the both of you have violated a most important school rule tonight." Said the black-haired professor. "Detentions, I believe, are in order."

I froze up. Only bad kids got detention. I had never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever gotten into any sort of trouble in my entire school career. Not a white card, nor a pink slip, not a referral, nor a detention, not even a single visit to the principal's office. And here on my first day, was I going to finally break my perfect streak? Was I going to turn into a bad kid?

"Really, Severus," said McGonogall, "detentions? I believe it was an honest mistake. They are _quite_ new to the school, after all, and it's quite easy to get lost."

Severus' eyes narrowed.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, then." He said, grudgingly compromising.

"And Slytherin, likewise." Added McGonogall, nodding at me. "Now, Professor Snape, would you kindly lead your student to her common room? Ms. McParlan, you may follow me."

I had the unfortunate realization that this hook-nosed ray of sunshine must be _my_ head of house. As we departed down different staircases, I saw Mikaela mouth at me,

"Tough luck."


	5. Chapter 5: Yay! Hogwarts!

**Chapter 5: Yay! Hogwarts!**

Professor Snape led me silently down that staircase, then down another one, and then down about fourteen others, or more, or less, but probably more. We went down corridors, we passed through walls, and all the while he walked as briskly as if it weren't past midnight, with his black robes swooshing behind him impressively.

At last, we came to another solid wall.

"_Naiad_", said Professor Snape. The wall opened. "Go on," he said to me impatiently, and I scrambled into the next little stone hallway. It closed behind me, and to my utter dismay, I found myself greeted by a roomful of applause. I had done it. I had ruined all my chances of gaining respect with Slytherin.

"Way to go, first-year!" cheered a fifth-year. My shoulders sunk in embarrassment. Gemma appeared out of the crowd, smiling slightly, with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't worry about it, there's one that gets lost just about every year." Just as I realized that most of the Slytherins were in good humor and not trying to actually hurt my feelings, the applause subsided as it became clear how unhappy it had made me. Thinking quickly, I grinned and bowed deeply to the entire common room, which caused some laughter. Ha HA! Now I was winning.

The crowd dispersed, and I saw that this room was by far the most beautifully decorated that I had seen so far. There were several black leather sofas and chairs, and the water outside was completely black except for faint rays of moonlight that broke through the surface. Candles lit the room all over, and black-and-green lanterns burned dimly above. Stone snakes were carved all over the stone walls, and I could tell that whoever had built it had a great liking for stonemasonry, because the carvings did not stop there. The chairs were decorated with realistic wooden carvings of skulls, and the great stone fireplace was host to several magnificent detailed designs featuring leaves, serpents, hands, and men with beards.

I followed a group of girls down to the left, where the girls dormitory was. There, I was greeted by another happy surprise: there was a skylight. And by skylight, I mean I could see the moon and stars through the surface of the lake, something I could never have hoped for outside of Minnesota. The moon and stars through the water.

We didn't have to sleep in bunk beds, which I was grateful for. I thought it might be like camp, but it wasn't. We each got our own four-poster queen-sized bed, which was bigger than my one at home.

I conked out without putting on pajamas or anything.

The next morning, I woke up at 5:00, because I was so excited, and also Lilly the cat had decided that a good way to sleep would be draped across my neck.

Someone had pulled the curtains shut over my bed, or perhaps I had done it, or more likely, they had done it on their own, and the only light was coming from the water outside. There were weeds swaying gently in the waves, and I was watching spiny sunfish meander aimlessly like lost tourists.

At 5:30, I got up and started to explore around the common room. One reason I really liked mornings was that no one was awake. The stone floor was cold, as was the damp cool air around me, and most of the heat came from the fireplace, which seemed to brighten when it saw me walk by.

I discovered a very helpful message board that listed the current password and the Slytherin schedules, along with notices such as,

"_Lost rat: albino, hates music (except R&B), responds to name 'Ziggy_'" and

"_Wizard cards for trade or sale! Missing an Agrippa? Xavier Rastrick vanished (no pun intended)? Contact Titus Mitcham!_" and

"_The owner of the lost dungbomb found in the boy's lavatory is invited to come and retrieve it from off the walls and ceiling. Please collect your dungbomb before noon or we're getting Professor Snape_."

I scanned the list of schedules for my own.

"_First years:_

_1A Herbology (Ravenclaw)_

_ 2A Transfiguration_

_ 12:10-1:30 Lunch_

_ 3A History of Magic (Ravenclaw)_

_1B Defense Against the Dark Arts (Hufflepuff)_

_2B Charms_

_ 12:10-1:30 Lunch_

_ 3B Potions (Gryffindor)"_

Maaaaaaan. Only one class with Gryffindor.

Breakfast was eggs and bacon and toast, which I wasn't a fan of. Mostly I drank a lot of cranberry juice. I sat silently at the Slytherin table, my nose buried deep in a book I had gotten at Flourish and Blotts called _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, which was highly gratifying to read. I glimpsed Mikaela at the Gryffindor table, apparently having a pretty nice chat with Harry Potter.

"Famous Potter." said Draco bitterly to his only two friends. "Not so special now, is he? Just look at the lot he's picked as friends, mudbloods like McParlan and scumsuckers like Weasley."

In the future, I would wish I had said something then. In fact, I would wish I had said something about two hundred other times after that. Instead, I just pretended I wasn't listening, which seemed to drive Draco mad anyways.

Halfway through breakfast, the Great Hall was bombarded by a swarm of owls carrying packages. This came as a shock to me, half-asleep, and I screamed in surprise, to the amusement of Draco and Crabbe and Goyle, whose first names I never learned.

By the end of breakfast alone, there were about twenty individual drawings of Draco getting attacked or squashed by different magical creatures in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, many of them being ridden by Mikaela and I.

I waved once at Mikaela, who waved back. It was going to be a whole year before we figured out that no one was keeping tabs on house tables and we could probably sit wherever we wanted or even leave altogether and run around the school. Unfortunately, we were too stupid.

Classes started right after. First, though, we had Herbology, which was taught by the kindly little Professor Sprout. In Herbology, we learned all about magical plants. It was nice, being in a greenhouse.

After Herbology, we had our first Transfiguration lesson. McGonogall was a nightmare, especially after Sprout. I got tired of listening to her lecture us on how dangerous and complex it all was and started daydreaming, jumping only when all of a sudden her desk transformed into a pig and back. It got boring again after that. At one point I noticed that everyone else was jotting down notes, so to look busy, I started writing a poem.

Then it turned out that we had to know some of that stuff in order to turn a matchstick into a needle. None of us accomplished anything except Zabini, who was a terrifying sort of person who I had never seen speak and who frequently gave me the evil eye. He got his matchstick to turn silver, but it was still just a matchstick. McGonogall was very displeased with me when I revealed that I didn't know the incantation.

Then we had lunch. Lunch came with a 70-minute break before our third class. Mikaela and I used this opportunity to explore the school.

Mikaela and I somehow discovered the courtyard. She related the tragic tale of how she accidentally split her bean down the middle instead of making it bounce, and how a boy named Seamus managed to break his into hundreds of flying shards. That was when the Gryffindor ghost came by with a lady friend. They were both chuckling lightly.

"I say, aren't you the two first years that Peeves managed to frighten half to death?" He asked, amused.

"No!" She cried defensively. Mikaela and I were forced to leave when about five more ghosts showed up and all started laughing at us. After that, I daydreamed my way through History of Magic, which was taught by a ghost named Biff or something like that. I stopped paying attention after the first few words.

Mikaela and I decided that we would explore the grounds till it was time to eat and go to bed, but we never got out of the castle. As it turns out, everything in Hogwarts moves all the time, and getting lost was a school hobby. The locked door that we thought led down to the Great Hall turned out to be the door to the Third Floor, which, it seemed, they added after our escapade the night before. In the end, we ended up sitting on a set of moving stairs as they floated all over the place, taking turns drawing Draco and his gang being stampeded by various Fantastic Beasts, until the stairs finally parked themselves outside of a door that two Ravenclaws told us led to the Great Hall. At this point, dinner was halfway through with.

The next day, I was awoken at 7:00 by one of my roommates, Tracey Davis, who had been kind enough to put her pet toad on my face.

"Breakfast time." She said plainly as I sat up shrieking, sending the toad flying onto the green comforter.

Tracey was the only First-year I had met who wore makeup. She favored a load of heavy black eyeliner, which today she had jazzed up with some lime-green liquid eyeshadow. Her hair was jet black and kept interesting by little goth accessories. I liked her because she didn't talk much.

I picked up the toad and dusted him off, handing him back to Tracey to show her I had meant him no harm. She said nothing, keeping a blank and placid look on her made-up face as she tucked him into her robe pocket.

Today I had been looking foreword to since yesterday, because it was Potions day. Not only did we get to be with Gryffindor, but Potions was clearly the most interesting subject, judging from the textbooks.

First, though, I had Defense Against the Dark Arts with Quirrell, who was the unfortunate victim of a bad stutter. He didn't really _seem_ equipped to be dealing with dark arts of any sort. Second, there was Charms, with the little elf-like man named Professor Flitwick, who I found out later was head of Ravenclaw, which made me wish I was in Ravenclaw all the more. Charms was the most fun, mostly because we got to use our wands for the first time. I squealed in excitement when I made a lima bean bounce once in the air. The lima bean broke as it hit the desk, but I couldn't have been more pleased. I was one of the few who succeeded, along with, unfortunately, Draco.

That lunch period we decided to study up for Potions, because we had already decided to be the best at it. If I thought Flourish and Blotts was exciting, it was nothing compared to the Hogwarts Library. I would have lived there, if they'd let me.

"Have you had Transfiguration yet?" asked Mikaela, cruelly distracting me from a large, wonderful encyclopedia of magical potions and their effects. I was particularly infatuated with the description of a potion that gave you weeks and weeks worth of vivid, waking nightmares.

"Yep. And Defense against the Dark Arts and Charms." I described my triumph with the bean.

"We had to try and turn matchsticks into needles. Hermione was the only one who got anywhere close. My matchstick didn't do a thing." She said glumly. "Transfiguration is already really hard."

"And Charms is really easy." I said. "What else have you had today?"

"Defense against the Dark Arts. Professor Quirrell is... interesting."

"_Super_ interesting." I added. "I feel sort of sorry for him, though. Draco caught on early how easy it is to push him around. He's like a grown-up nerdy kid."

"Why do you think he has the turban?" She asked.

"I dunno. Maybe he's Muslim." I speculated, though Quirrell struck me as more of a non-practicing Presbyterian.

"I don't think so. He told us he got it from an African Prince, but I heard from someone that he's stuffed it with garlic."

"Or maybe the turban serves a more sinister purpose." I said, foreshadowingly. We laughed, and then the Librarian, who had been "Ssh!"ing us the whole time, finally made us leave.

We spent the rest of our lunch doing what started out as an attempt to memorize the patterns of the Hogwarts staircases, but turned into a contest to see who could jump the farthest. This caused giggle fits. It was made funnier because older students would walk by and give us looks, which put us into more giggle fits. The contest ended when, in a flamboyant show of prowess, I attempted to jump from one staircase to another while both were moving, and found myself being levitated through the air by Gryffindor prefect Percy Weasley, who was scolding both of us for being stupid and careless, and took away 2 points from Slytherin, and 1 from Gryffindor.

"That doesn't seem fair." I argued as he levitated me back onto the solid ground, still grinning.

"Yeah," added Mikaela pleasantly. "We were both doing it."

"Don't you argue with me, I'm a prefect! Don't think I won't take away more points from my own house, because I will." Said Percy sternly.

"This is racism! I demand equal treatment!" I shouted in a deep vibrato voice. Mikaela cracked up. Percy was clearly outraged at our apparent irreverence toward his authority.

"Fine! Have it your way! _Three_ points from Gryffindor _and_ Slytherin!" He boomed, squaring his shoulders in an apparent attempt to feel taller.

"Ooh, _three_." I giggled. "Let's just round up to a nice even five."

"No!" Percy yelled furiously, trying futilely to assert himself.

"WE DEMAND FIVE POINTS BE TAKEN FROM OUR HOUSES!" I shouted in the same voice.

"I'm not going to take orders from first years- that's it, what are your names?" He said as Mikaela and I doubled over in laughter. We had never done anything like this before, but there was something so wonderfully nonthreatening about Percy's authority that we couldn't help it. "Hey!" He practically screamed over the laughter. We were now attracting a good deal of attention from onlookers, who were beginning to travel to their next classes. Percy grabbed both of our arms and pulled us up level to him. "Quiet down! You've left me no choice but to report you." At this, we both fell quiet. My grin was fading as I realized how much trouble we would be in _again_.

"I need names from both of you." He hissed, taking out a little black notebook and a quill. We were both up against the banister now, feeling short because of how close Percy had made a point to stand, boxing us in so he seemed really tall and intimidating.

The first bell rang. The staircase just above us began to move down, much to the distress of everyone who had been just about to climb it to get to class. Mikaela and I both watched it as it floated just by us, and looked at eachother with the same realization that we would never get to class on time without the staircase.

"NAMES!" Percy near screamed, his freckled face as red as his hair. Mikaela nudged her head toward the direction of the staircase, trying to send me a message.

"Well," I said, looking down anxiously."Most people call me Chuck." I sighed mournfully. "Chuck-Sunny-Bun-Bun. And this is my friend, Professor Pants."

In one brilliant move, Mikaela and I leapt up onto the banister and off it, making the heroic leap onto the descending staircase, which we ran down, screaming with laughter, to the applause of the audience we had evidently attracted.

Running as fast as we could down the hallway, we could still hear people clapping, and Percy's frustration.

"We're going to get in _so much trouble_!" Mikaela wheezed.

"We _should not have done that!_" I wailed, still laughing.

"Oh, gosh! I'm still going to have to see that kid tonight in the Common Room!" She lowered her voice as we approached the entrance to the Dungeons.

"Wear a mask," I suggested.

We teetered down the steps leading to the Dungeons, which I had gotten pretty good at finding over the past two nights. We were the first ones to arrive, and Professor Snape eyed us suspiciously as we found our seats.

Soon, the room filled with people. The Gryffindors all seemed to culminate at the opposite side of the room from the Slytherins, and cautious babble filled the air.

Snape was probably the most intimidating person I'd ever seen. If he and Percy got into a fight, Snape would eat him. He did a roll-call, stopping on Harry's name.

"Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new celebrity." He said this in almost a disgusted tone. I glanced over at Harry Potter, who was looking rather statuesque, obviously sensing danger.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape continued after he had finished with the roll-call. "As there is very little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you to fully understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with it's shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses; I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death... if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

I pictured Professor Snape spending hours writing poetry alone in his bedroom and memorizing it for future use.

"Potter," Snape called, barely glancing in his direction. "What would I get if I added a powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" He said this very quickly. Harry Potter looked clueless. Hermione Granger, not surprisingly, raised her hand immediately. Snape pretended not to notice.

"I don't know sir," said Harry. Snape did a tiny, mean little smile.

"Clearly, fame isn't everything."

If I was reading this right, Professor Snape had it in for Harry Potter. I expressed this in note-form to Mikaela. She wrote underneath it,

_I think he's just like that._

I got the feeling she had changed her mind after Snape asked Potter two more impossible questions to humiliate him. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who I would bet my life had no idea what any of the answers were either, were in silent stitches of laughter as Potter was forced to admit that he hadn't had the book memorized.

I actually knew the answer to the last question, but I didn't dare raise my hand. There was an episode of _House_ where someone got poisoned by Monkshood.

As unpleasant as Snape's class was, I was super excited when it found out we got to start making potions that day. The first potion we were instructed to make was a cure for boils. I didn't know what use it would be, because I had never seen anyone with a boil.

"Okay," I said, organizing the little bowls and bottles of nasty ingredients in front of our little pewter cauldron, "what do we do first?" I had left the recipe-reading to Mikaela, because it was boring and I didn't want to do it.

"Add six measures of snake fangs to the motor." She read carefully.

"To the what?" I asked cheerfully.

"The... the more-tar? What is that?" She looked around at the multiple strange thingies on the desk.

"I think it means _cauldron_." I decided.

"But it says 'cauldron' later. I think the mortar is a different thing than the cauldron."

"Eh." I said, dumping the snake fangs into the empty cauldron. Mikaela sighed and continued.

"Crush the snake fangs into a fine powder using your mortar." She read. We were both silent. "Take them out." She said just as I went to take the snake fangs back out.

We couldn't figure out what the mortar was and we didn't want to ask Professor Snape, so we ended up putting the snake fangs between our two potions books and trying to smash them with force. It worked, except that the result was not a fine powder, so we had to dump the pile of crushed fangs onto our desk and hit it with a spoon.

"If you had been reading your books instead of using them to make a mess in my classroom, you'd have known that the mortar and pestle tend to extract better results, unless of course your intention was to lose house points for insolence." Snape had casually walked up behind us, startling us both. He motioned toward a bowl containing and a little club that could only be the mortar before he walked away again.

"Thanks!" I called, now knowledgeable on what a mortar was.

"Do not interrupt me." He said. He had already started to criticize the kids next to us.

After we had finely crushed our snake fangs, we melted them in our cauldron, which sat over a tiny flame.

"Gently stew four horned slugs in he cauldron until tender and pliant." read Mikaela. "Eew." She added, turning up the heat to 400*.

"That's not _gently_." I complained.

"We're running low on time." She said, stirring the slugs in quickly.

"Okay, but with that much heat, we'll have to cut everything in half. It says to stew for about ten minutes, but I guess five now. And instead of stirring thrice clockwise every minute... we'll have to stir _six_ times clockwise every thirty seconds." I calculated. Mikaela was concentrating too hard to realize that this made no sense.

A strange feeling came over me, like I was being stared at. I swung around just in time to see Percy Weasley march through the archway. My shoulders shrunk. I elbowed Mikaela, which she later claimed was what screwed up her stirring and caused the potion to catch fire. At that moment, though, she just stared.

"Oh no." She said. Percy had interrupted Professor Snape's criticism and was pointing at our table with determination. Snape furrowed his brow more than usual and glided over to us. Looking up at Snape and Percy at that moment was like staring death in the face.

"These two. These are the ones." He said sternly.

"McParlan, Johnson, follow me." Snape was unreadable. Snape led Percy, Mikaela, and I into the hall outside the Potions classroom. "Mr. Weasley, explain."

"Professor Snape, these two first-years have exhibited rude behavior that is an insult to both this school and to the authority of all Prefects. I'm sure you would by _highly_ disappointed to learn of what your students have been up to." Percy said haughtily.

"I'm sure." said Snape dryly.

Percy recounted the entire tale with a whole bunch of adjectives that didn't need to be there like "ignorant" and "extremely dangerous" and "unbelievably objectionable". When he finished, Snape's bored, dry expression had not changed.

"What, exactly, do you expect me to do about it, Mr. Weasley?" he asked. Percy looked slightly taken aback, but was unfettered.

"I think it's fair to take ten points from both houses, Professor." Percy dictated.

"No where is it written that jumping from stair to stair is forbidden. I don't disagree that such frivolity is both dangerous and stupid, but, if I'm not mistaken, Mr. Weasley, there is no rule against stupidity. Quite unfortunately." Snape said. "And don't go complaining about your wounded, overinflated ego. I'm surprised, in fact, that it's taken this long for someone to remind you of your place at this school."

"But Professor!" Percy cried.

"Get out of my sight, Mr. Weasley." Snape said coldly.

"Professor, I hardly think that-"

"Five points from Gryffindor for needlessly interrupting my class." Snape said even more coldly. Percy, all flustered, strutted out of the corridor like a pissed red bird.

We were led back into the Potions room. Neither Mikaela or I said anything. What had just happened was clearly some sort of miracle.

For about ten more minutes, we did stuff to the potion that most likely should not have been done while Snape went around like a bucket of cheer and rainbows, harshly judging everyone in his path.

As we had just avoided losing ten points each, we were both immensely relieved when it was Neville and a Gryffindor named Seamus Finnigan who exploded their potion first, and not us. The slight fire that was blazing atop our pot of vile grey sludge was almost covert compared to the green gush of acid that spilled out over the floor from Neville's cauldron, eating people's shoes and causing mass panic. Before I was able to catch up, Neville was covered in warts and Snape was yelling at him like a large vulture yelling at a canary. Somehow Snape found a way to take a point from Potter for this.

Did the houses have any points to start with? Because Gryffindor seemed to be bleeding out pretty quickly, and so far I hadn't seen anyone gain any.

Over the weeks that followed, Potions proved to be probably the second funnest class after Charms. The next Friday proved to be a triumphant occasion when the fumes from our expertly-made Sleeping Draught successfully knocked out Crabbe, who was trying to copy us after Snape told us we weren't doing as awful a job as the rest. I was stirring it with my wand when all of a sudden, Crabbe's massive head (which had evidently drifted into the cloud of purple smoke from our potion as he tried to get a better look) plunged straight into the cauldron and knocked everything all over the place. Snape was furious, and I think that if Mikaela had been stirring instead of me, he would have taken more points from Gryffindor. Instead he just yelled at Crabbe after he had been revived. The good news is Mikaela and I were given high marks for our super amazing skill and mastery of the art of potion-making.

Except for Snape, who everyone hated, there wasn't a single teacher at Hogwarts who had any real liking for the Slytherin house. In fact, the other students seemed to hate us in general. At eleven, I was not the most observant person in the world. However, I eventually caught on to the way things worked at Hogwarts. The Gryffindors generally had the run of the place. Even though my only friends, Mikaela and Neville, were in Gryffindor, I could definitely see what Gemma was talking about, what with the pompousness and holier-than-thou demeanor. Even when a Gryffindor was doing something against the rules, they had to be in the right. It wore on you after awhile. Whereas, it seemed, even when the Slytherins were following the rules, we were doing something wrong.

One time, while running down the hall, I accidentally knocked over a second-year Hufflepuff boy and scattered his books all over the place. Pansy, a pixie-faced bubblehead I had to share a dorm with, started laughing hard at this, and almost everyone started glaring at me, because I was _obviously _in on it. This prejudice and injustice pissed me off so much that I just glared back.

It probably didn't help that Draco and his cronies practically _paraded _the fact that they were total buttholes all the time. The crap that they pulled made all of us look worse.

It seemed everyone loved the Gryffindors except us. Hufflepuff, which turned out to be the most average group of background characters I had ever seen, generally didn't have any _real_ qualms against anyone, but they didn't seem to trust us at all. Ravenclaw was almost as high-and-mighty as Gryffindor, and in the case of grades, even more so. But they also seemed to have the most cool people who I would want to be friends with in their ranks. The problem was that they didn't seem to trust us either. I had the feeling that a lot of Slytherins wouldn't act as rude if the rest of the school was more polite to them. But for that to happen, Slytherin would have to start being nicer first, which it was _far_ to proud to do.

Transfiguration was usually tied for my least favorite class with History of Magic, which was brutally boring. Some days, History of Magic was preferable to Transfiguration, and other days they were equal. The point is, Professor McGonogall haunted my dreams. Transfiguration was easy in _theory_. It was the art of changing something into something else. I think I probably could have managed it if she didn't insist on making us memorize all those charts and theorems. Her class was like algebra except it made no sense and I couldn't remember any of it. Mikaela didn't mind it nearly as much as I did. Her worst class was, hands-down, Defense Against the Dark Arts. She claims that there was something innately annoying about Professor Quirrell.

"He stutters a lot." I said.

"That's not it, though. There's just something _annoying_ about him. I just get so _bothered_." Mikaela tried hard to communicate.

"His head seems giant in comparison to his body," I posed.

"No." Mikaela said, thinking.

"He smells weird, he has a high voice, he seems scared of his own students, he's effeminate, he looks like an male version of one of the mean girls from Congdon, he doesn't have enough hair on his face, you can see his Adams apple, he walks like _this_-" I imitated Quirrel's jerky gait "-and he never makes eye contact." I said. Unlike Snape, who made too much eye contact. "There's loads of weird things about him."

"There's weird things about all the teachers here, though." Mikaela said. "Quirrell seems like he should be the most normal and agreeable."

"That's it, then. You don't like normal teachers." I said. Case closed. I won.

"It's the eye contact thing." Mikaela decided.

We were heading off to our first flying lesson, which I was looking forward to _immensely_. I mean, who didn't constantly dream of flying? All the Slytherins, at least, were obsessed with Quidditch. I was the only Muggle-born Slytherin in first year, so I was literally the _only _person in my house who hadn't the faintest idea what Quidditch was. When I let this slip one morning during breakfast to Tracey Davis, from half a table away Marcus Flint let out an enraged "WHAT?!" and stormed over to me, eager to explain everything. As it turned out, Flint was the Slytherin Captain, which meant that he possessed a level of aggressive fervor for the sport that I had not yet seen in anyone. From what I could decipher through Flint's numerous tales of his own victory and manliness and unfair defeat at the hands of biased referees, Quidditch was like every other sport, except there was a lot more cheating, and people seemed to get injured a lot.

Today, Mikaela and I cut through the Courtyard and made our way down to the

grounds. We had become experts at finding the front door of Hogwarts. At least, Mikaela had become an expert. I was still learning. Generally I thanked my luck that at she had a better sense of direction than me.

As usual, we were the last to arrive. The practice area was very close to the Forbidden Forest, which I had never gotten very close to. Broomsticks lay in neat rows in the soft green grass. The Gryffindors and Slytherins were, as usual, standing in groups on opposite sides of eachother.

A spiky grey-haired woman, Madame Hooch, showed up and started commanding us all.

"Well, what are you all waiting for? Everyone, stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up." She was the wizarding equivalent of a gym teacher. We rushed to do as she said. I got stuck with a really shifty looking broom with almost no twigs in it's tail, and duct tape on the handle. "Stick out your right hand over the broom," she commanded, "and say 'UP'."

"UP!" shouted everyone at different times. The brooms started moving around, but none of them actually went up except Harry Potter's. My shabby grey broomstick sort of quavered slowly into the air like a shaky old thing with very little life in it. It had been through a lot. It was a veteran of Hogwarts Flying Practices past. Madame Hooch had us mount our brooms. This took about twenty whole minutes, because apparently there was some technique or something that I didn't understand or whatever.

We were about to take of when Neville, who had been visibly frightened the entire lesson, rocketed into the air like a firework, yelling all the way up. This sent Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Millicent (so pretty much my whole grade) into violent stitches of laughter. Okay, it was funny, but not _that_ funny. Then, suddenly, Neville was coming back down again. WHAM. He hit the grass. All fell silent.

"Is he dead?" asked one of the Gryffindors.

The broomstick seemed to have escaped into the Forbidden Forest.

Madame Hooch gingerly held Neville's wrist. He was face-down in the grass, sobbing.

"Broken wrist," she muttered. "Come on, boy. It's all right, up you get." She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing. You leave those brooms where they are, or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say _Quidditch._" She turned back to Neville. "Come on, dear." She escorted Neville, who looked more like a sad little gopher than ever, up to the castle.

As soon as they were far enough away so that he wouldn't get in trouble, Malfoy started laughing again.

"Did you see his face, the great lump!" Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Millicent joined in. Zabini never laughed or smiled. Tracey Davis was sitting in the grass, far away, coloring her nails with a marker.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Snarled a Gryffindor named Parvati Patil. All the Gryffindors had the exact same stance. In most video games, it was called _Battle Stance_.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy giggled in her bubbleheaded way. "Never thought _you'd _like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" called Draco, grabbing a clear little ball that had evidently fallen out of Neville's pocket when he smashed into the ground. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's _Gran_ sent him!"

"Oh, lord." I muttered, cursing my luck for ending up in the same house as this bunch of nitwits.

"Give that here, Malfoy." said Harry Potter very dangerously. If all went well, they'd beat eachother up, make up, and just be friends so the rest of us could get on with our lives.

"I think I'll leave it for somewhere for Longbottom to find." said Draco, who was feeding off Potter's anger. "How about... up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Yelled Potter.

As I suspected, the two of them got into a fight, but unfortunately there were no fists. They just flew around on brooms for awhile. Mikaela was busy watching the aerial battle so I braided some dandelions together while everyone was captivated by Potter and Draco and their soon-to-be-bromance.

In the end, Potter succeeded in getting back Neville's clear little ball, but got caught by McGonogall while he was flying. Draco watched smugly as Potter got escorted by a stern-looking McGonogall back into the castle.

Draco, who had been looking rather crestfallen when Potter caught the ball, was now snickering with triumph as he watched Potter being brought up for judgement.

"You little _jerk!_" Shouted Mikaela angrily. She and Ron Weasley were charging toward Draco and his gang with determination.

"I wouldn't give him the satisfaction." said Hermione warningly. "That's exactly what he wants from you." Mikaela and Ron both stopped, feet from Draco, whose supersized minions were getting ready to rumble with these tiny freckled foes.

"Ooh, _scared_, Granger?" sneered Draco. "Afraid your _boyfriend_ might get hurt?"

"Boyfriend! She wishes!" giggled Pansy. "The teeth on _that_ frumpy hag would even scare off beavers!" This caused Millicent to laugh loudly.

"Watch it, Parkinson, or the second you leave the ground, I swear I'll knock you off your broom!" threatened Parvati Patil.

"Really! Think of what Madame Hooch will do when she comes back and sees you all brawling, you're going to get _all of us _into trouble!" Hermione scolded, her arms crossed. I had pretty much had it with everyone at that moment, so I snapped.

"Hermione, you're not _everyone's mom_. If they want to be idiots, just let them, okay?!" Tracey, who was several feet away with her back turned, laughed in agreement. Several Gryffindors shot me dirty looks. Mikaela looked at me in surprise. I panicked, realizing I had just taken the wrong side. "Well, I don't mean that it's a _bad_ thing, but-"

"First years!" Called Madame Hooch as she power-walked down from the castle. Everyone returned sheepishly to their lines across the field, still eyeing the opposite house bitterly. Madame hooch got down to where we all stood. She raised her whistle. "Let's have another try at it. This time, everyone keep your feet flat on the ground until I blow my whistle." She sounded irritated. "Mount your brooms."

We did so. Madame Hooch blew the whistle. At once, several people rose up shakily into the air. Some kids looked more freaked-out than others, and one Gryffindor boy looked like he was going to wet his pants when his broom actually floated.

I jumped. I didn't rise at all, but my broom floated meekly downward, slightly delaying my fall time.

"Come on, stupid broom! UP!" I whispered at it. Mikaela was floating four feet in the air, looking excited, even though the broom had barely risen.

I was the last one on the ground. Madame Hooch came over to me to try and help, but it was wasted on me. I jumped again and again, each time suffering the same slow fall.

"No, no, kick _straight_ up, hard, like this, see?" She tried to show me how to jump.

"I _know _how to jump!" I complained. "It's one of my greatest talents!" This was true. I had perfected this talent on the moving stairs, as well as the public playgrounds, in addition to my imaginary punching skills.

I jumped again. All of a sudden, my broom launched itself twelve feet into the air, shaking like the limb of an elderly muppet.

"AAH!" I shrieked, to the laughter of several Gryffindors. _Screw them_, I thought as my broom steadied itself and began to spin around in the air, helicoptering back down slowly as I held on for life.

"Very good, very good." Said Hooch dismissively. "Now we're going to try that again, but _this _time, you will follow me as we fly around the field _very carefully_. We will do one lap before returning to the ground, unless you feel inclined to touch down earlier."

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil both threw glances at me and giggled.

"On my whistle, one, two, _three_." Hooch blew her whistle and we were up again. This time, I didn't struggle quite so much with the takeoff. My broom jumped in large intervals until it was almost at the same level as everyone else's.

"Come on, Mr. Tapey, we can do this!" I encouraged the broom. "Whoa!" The broom that I had named jumped an additional ten feet. Now I was higher than everyone. The Flying class began to follow Madame Hooch slowly around the field. "Wait!" I called. They did not wait, except for Mikaela, and Ron Weasley momentarily, who couldn't figure out quite what to do with himself without his friend Potter around. He took off after the rest of them after an awkward second. I was trying to will my broom downward, but it didn't seem to want to go. Instead it floated sideways, trying to spin again.

The Flying class was already halfway done with their lap. Mikaela was looking up at me struggling with my broom, then over at the group, which frustrated me further.

"Just go! I'll catch up!" I called down.

"Are you sure?" She asked.

I fought with my broom, red-faced and angry, for another moment.

"UGH!" I growled in reply, and decided to just try and follow the class anyways.

"Okay, then, I guess." Mikaela muttered. She flew in front of me uncertainly, looking back up every few minutes as I struggled to fly in a neat ring around the field.

Madame Hooch was back on the ground, and the rest of the class were slowly touching down one-by-one.

"Almost there!" Called Mikaela encouragingly.

A sharp wind blew from off the lake in what could have only been an act of pure malevolence towards me. All of a sudden, my rickety broom was floating north at an alarming speed.

"Hey! Stop that!" I chided it. I tried to force it down again but it wouldn't listen. Mr. Tapey had become despondent. "HELP!" I cried as the wind picked up force. "This broom is... it's hungover, or something!"

Tapey swung lifelessly upside down and practically tipped me off. I was hanging on as hard as I could. I shrieked. This elderly broomstick had clearly just gone into a seizure-induced coma. I had no control as the broom floated higher, higher, and farther with the wind. Madame Hooch was approaching me on her own broomstick much more slowly than my situation required.

"HURRY!" I screamed, now floating over the towers of Hogwarts.

"Hold on!" Called Madame Hooch. Like I had been planning to let go. I desperately wanted to close my eyes, but couldn't. I could feel my muscles slipping. All of a sudden, Madame Hooch grabbed the tail of my broom. I grabbed her hand and she helped me right-side-up again. I heaved a heavy sigh. "Hold onto the tail of my broom, there you go." She instructed. I gripped the twigs of her broomstick tightly, my legs cramping with the strain of not falling off my own broom but not daring to relax. We steadily floated downward, back toward the class. Draco was smirking like a stupid blonde weasel. So were a few Gryffindors, but it was Draco who I thought most deserved the evil eye.

Just as we passed the north tower, my broom buzzed violently back to life like a sudden scream and, in what could only have been it's death throes, bucked me off the back of it so quickly that I had no time to process what was happening. In an instant, I was flying like a rocket through the air and crashing through Professor Binns' window, shattering the glass, and then I was laying on my back in a classroom full of surprised Ravenclaw third years. Binns had evidently not noticed the disruption and was continuing amidst the yelps of panic from his students and my one moan of pain.

Between the force of Binns' lecture on giant hunts and the massive head trauma I had just suffered, I blacked out.


	6. Chapter 6: Marauding

Chapter 6: Marauding

"Good afternoon, students!" Said Professor McGonogall, who was dressed like the evil sorceress from _Sleeping Beauty_. She was armed with a pistol.

"Good afternoon!" Replied the class around me. I noticed that they were all from Congdon Park Elementary, and they were all dressed like Snape. We were having class in my living room.

"As you all know, we have a _very_ important test today. It is worth 90% of your whole grade. I hope you studied, Ms. Johnson." She said.

"Of course I studied!" I lied. I would just have to cheat and BS my way through this test. It probably wouldn't be a problem.

"Very well. Ms. Johnson, in order to pass Hogwarts, you must transfigure yourself into a Gryffindor by the end of the hour. Go."

All of a sudden, I realized that I didn't have my wand. Mikaela kept on telling me that I could borrow hers, but she was floating on a broom on the other side of the windowpane.

"Ms Johnson?" Asked a soft voice.

"Mm?" I replied without opening my eyes. I couldn't face the shame at having flunked McGonogall's test.

"Ms Johnson?" Asked the voice again. I felt something cold being put inside of my mouth all of a sudden. The coolness spread like a breath of wind all through my body, and I blinked back to life. I inhaled deeply.

"Pine." I murmured quietly. I was tasting pine and looking up at a white ceiling and white curtains and a lady bending over me with a glass phial of blue liquid.

"Wideye potion, dear." Said the Madam Pomfrey. She turned to a foggy figure next to her, whose face was blurry. "She's coming to. She'll be fine in no time."

Everything cleared up. I found myself sitting in what looked like a hospital bed, covered in bandages, with a pounding headache.

There were _three_ figures instead of one.

"Oh, dear. I'm so sorry. I told them I needed new broomsticks, but they never listen to me." It was Madame Hooch.

"It's okay." I said. It was most certainly not okay. I might even sue.

"How are you feeling?" asked a kind and concerned Mikaela, adopting her most grandmotherly voice.

"Fine." I said. I was most certainly _not_ feeling fine.

"Hey." Said Tracey Davis blankly.

"Hey," I replied. Tracey always knew exactly the right words to make someone feel better. Madam Pomfrey was disgruntled.

"A nasty accident, that was. Rolanda, I'm at the end of my rope. There've been more Quidditch injuries than I've ever seen at this castle, and now, the _moment _ they get off the ground-"

"Poppy, it's the board of governors. If they'd invest just a _little_ into new supplies-" Madam Hooch interrupted.

"Well, until then, if I see _one more_ ridiculous flying injury in my hospital wing, I swear, Rolanda, the things that happen to these students!"

"Oh, come on now, it's not that bad. It's not that bad, is it, Ms. Johnson?" Asked Hooch.

"Um," I said, looking at Mikaela for help.

"Nonsense! Ms McParlan, Ms Davis, if you would escort Ms Johnson to the Great Hall for dinner _slowly_." Madam Pomfrey nodded at the three of us. We scrambled out of there, desperate to avoid being roped into this argument.

"I was really worried there, when you flipped upside-down." Mikaela said as we walked down the staircases.

"I think I can safely say I was _more _worried." I said. "My hands were slipping the whole time, and once I passed the tower, my legs _cramped up_, and I thought I was going to die..." I recounted the entire story gleefully with exuberant pantomiming.

Just as we made it to the corridor outside of the Great Hall, we were startled by a loud voice behind us.

"Hey!" We turned around. Two Gryffindors, who I recognized as Fred and George Weasley (but who I couldn't tell apart) had suddenly appeared behind us and were approaching rapidly. "You two!" called one of them.

"We've been looking to catch the two of you for _ages_." Said the other twin. They were standing next to us now.

"Why?" I asked, bewildered. Mikaela looked just as surprised.

"To congratulate you, of course." Said the first twin.

"Commend you, really." Said the second.

"What for?" Mikaela asked.

"For whatever you did to torment our dear brother Percy so much that he locked himself in his dorm." Said the first twin.

"We're pretty sure you traumatized him for life." Said the second, grinning.

"Oh. That was weeks ago. I completely forgot about that." I said.

"_He _hasn't." said the first twin again. "Reckon you should stay out of his way till he does, though."

"Are we in trouble?" I asked.

"Most likely. We've got to go flag down Potter, but keep it up, firsties!" said the second twin. They hurried ahead of us. A piece of paper flew out of the second twin's pocket as he ran into the great hall. He didn't seem to notice.

"Hey!" I called, but the twins had disappeared into the Great Hall. I picked up the paper and examined it. It was very old, and folded several times.

"Here, I'll give it back to them when I get to the table." offered Mikaela

"There's nothing on it." I said. "It's just a blank piece of paper. It might be weird if you just went up to them and was like, 'oh, here, you dropped your unused piece of paper.'"

"Why would it be weird?" asked Mikaela. "They could still be using it for something."

"I'm mostly out of clean parchment. I could use it to draw on. I don't think they'd mind." It was a pretty piece of parchment as well. I looked forward to creating something pretty on it.

"It's the second week of school! How are you out of parchment?"

"I just am, okay?" I pocketed the folded-up piece of paper and Mikaela rolled her eyes at me as we passed through the doors into the Great Hall. Dinner tonight was primarily steak-and-kidney pie, a British dish that I was not fond of. There were also dinner rolls and candied carrots.

I ate in silence, listening to the loud laughter of Marcus Flint, who was going on about his new Quidditch lineup and how the Gryffindors didn't even have a seeker. Then Draco began to boast about his own flying skills, retelling the story of his battle with Potter and adding a few details that hadn't happened. Marcus and a few other upperclassmen smiled, clearly not convinced, but Pansy Parkinson was gazing at Draco and giggling as he talked, her bubbleheaded smile saturated with so much unrequited love that she was practically drooling.

Perhaps he wanted to impress Flint, perhaps he wanted to impress Pansy, but at that moment Draco and his bodyguards departed the table to go harass Potter.

"This parchment isn't blank." said a voice next to me. I turned in surprise to see Tracey Davis holding the folded-up parchment that had been in my pocket a moment before. Her voice was new to me. It was flat and surprisingly feminine.

"What?" was the sound that came out of me.

"It's enchanted to appear blank. Look." She slid the paper over to me, and I was surprised to see it now had writing on it:

"_Messrs. Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs advise Ms. Tracey Davis to keep her slippery hands off of other people's belongings."_

"Well, _that's_ not very nice." I said.

"My mother works in the Department of Mysteries. I've seen her do Revealing Charms before. They're not hard." Tracey explained, her eyes not leaving the page.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"This is more than just a blank paper. Most likely, there's dark magic protecting it." Tracey said firmly.

"Dark magic? If those Weasley twins had it, I don't think it could be _that_ dark." I pictured Fred and George in a secret torture chamber. Tracey was silent again as the ink drained back into the vanilla paper. "What do you think it is, I wonder?"

Tracey took out a quill and wrote in hard boxy handwriting,

"_Hello. I politely request access to whatever is in this parchment." _her writing was swallowed by the page and replaced by,

_"Mr. Padfoot politely denies Ms. Davis and politely points out that she is a great slimy walrus."_

"I wanna try!" I exclaimed, taking the paper from Tracey. "What should I write?" I asked rhetorically. Tracey gazed at the paper with unbroken focus.

"_Hello Mr. Padfoot! I like your mean paper. You are a smelly butt."_ I giggled as I wrote.

The paper responded with,

"_Mr. Prongs gives his condolences to Ms. Johnson regarding her botched coconut haircut." _

"Dark magic!" I cried, my hand flying self-consciously to my hair. "I don't see what use this thing could be. Let's just give it back or throw it away." I looked at Tracey, expecting her to argue or say something, but she just looked at me silently. Clutching the paper, I got up and made for the Gryffindor table, deciding Fred and George could have it after all.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own. Tonight if you want. Wizard's Duel." I heard Draco boasting to Potter. I spun around to watch this conversation. Draco fighting Potter? I would want to watch this. "Wands only. No contact." He looked from Potter to Weasley and smirked. "What's the matter? Never heard of a Wizard's Duel?"

"Of course he has!" Jumped in Ron Weasley, unconvincingly. "I'm his second. Who's yours?"

"Crabbe." said Draco decisively. There wasn't much of a decision to be made: Crabbe and Goyle were both equally stupid. "Midnight, all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room. It's always unlocked."

At this, Draco and his gang left for the Slytherin table again. I was about to push past them on my way to the Weasleys, but changed my mind.

"You guys _actually_ going to fight?" I asked, squeezing around Goyle to talk to Draco as they walked.

"_Of course_. But I don't see how it concerns _you_." Draco said haughtily.

"Do you know any curses or hexes? Because the only thing I've seen you do so far is _flipendo_."

"Shut up, Johnson. Unlike your _muggle_ parents, _my_ father had the decency to teach me a few defensive spells before sending me off to school."

"Okay, then." I said as I got back to my seat, but before sitting down, I called loudly, "Hey! Draco and Potter fight tonight at Midnight in the Trophy Room! It's gonna be BIG. Anyone wanna come watch?" Slytherin looked up at me surprised, and quiet cheers and some laughter broke out. Draco turned white.

"Oh, I'm _dying_ to see _that_!" laughed a fourth-year.

"Way to go, little Malfoy!" shouted a sixth-year boy.

"Shut up, you numbskull!" Draco hissed at me, sitting down, looking thoroughly embarrassed. More loudly he said, "I'm _not _going to fight Potter. That would be obviously _idiotic_."

"Why'd you just say you would, then?" I asked. Draco rolled his eyes a little too noticeably.

"It's _obvious._ If Potter gets caught sneaking around the castle, he'll get expelled."

This obviously non-fabricated devious plan was met with adoring laugher from Pansy and, subsequently, Millicent, who generally did everything Pansy did. The older kids I'd alerted rolled their eyes and smirked, though Draco barely noticed, as everyone in his own year was looking up to him like a god.

I sat down next to Tracey, relishing in how much I amused myself, when she jabbed me in the arm with her wand.

"Ow! What?" I cried.

"Did you get rid of the parchment?" She asked, looking up at me seriously.

"No. I got distracted." I said.

"I want it." she said. "Just for now," she added, "until I crack the defense systems. You can have it back after."

I took it out of my pocket and handed it to her, confused.

"Why?" I asked finally. Tracey didn't answer. "Are you some kind of puzzle guru?"

"Sort of." She said, examining the parchment once more before putting it away.

"I'm more of a riddle type of person. Math isn't my friend." I said, launching into a lecture about my past struggles with algebra. As per usual, Tracey didn't seem interested, but listened silently.

I woke up in the middle of the night to Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle laughing with some sixth-years in the common room about how they had tipped off Filch about Potter being in the trophy room. I turned my eyes toward the bed just left of me, which had it's green curtains pulled all the way around, but which was emitting a great deal of light nonetheless. I heard soft mutterings coming from inside, and every now and then the light would color or intensify slightly. I let my feet fall to the cold stone floor as I crept toward the bed and slid the curtain slightly.

Tracey was laying with the parchment folded out all the way, with quills spread out and her wand in hand. A green battery-powered flashlight, which looked out-of-place in Hogwarts, sat on her pillow illuminating her work.

"_Mr. Prongs compliments the rudimentary spell Ms. Davis has performed, but entrusts his secrets to the performers of a spell with four letters."_

"Damn it." grumbled Tracey.

_"Messrs. Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs appreciate the sentiment, but Ms. Davis has once again totally missed the mark."_

"What are you doing?" I whispered. Tracey didn't look up.

"Go away." she whispered at me. "Progress." she added.

"You should go to sleep at some point." I said, though it was pointless.

I thought vaguely of Mikaela and how she was probably fast asleep in bed right now. I found out later that no, actually, she was running around the castle after Neville and Potter, but at the moment I compared my situation to hers and found myself with the shorter stick. Sleepy but unable to sleep, I ambled into the common room with a book I had checked out from the library called _66 Tales of Gloom and Horror from Around the Magical World_.

At that age, I had only had probably two nights in my entire life where I couldn't sleep. I would have many more, but this was only the third time in my entire life that I hadn't been able to force sleep upon myself. In later years, I discovered that the best remedy for insomnia is to pull out a bit of late transfiguration or potions homework and try to focus on it until my mind shut off out of unwillingness and boredom. It was a clever trick I would discover in around third year, and later wonder what that implied about my personality.

However, that night, I foolishly tried to read something entertaining. I sat on the black leather window cushion, hugging several green pillows, with a little white candle lighting the words.

Apparently my quiet reading rained on Draco's parade, and after five minutes he disappeared. The upperclassmen he had been so desperate to impress dropped sleepily on the sofas, and didn't awake for another twenty minutes. When they finally awoke and left the common room, they "_nox_ed" the lights off, evidently forgetting or not noticing that I was still in there.

I'm scared of the dark. I have always been scared of the dark. Not of the dark as much as of what I imagined moving inside of it: enormous black six-armed faceless demons, white-faced, hollow-eyed vengeful wraiths, pallid grey clammy dead things hidden in closets until the light goes off, murderous eyeless chainsaw-wielding maniacs, and plenty of other ridiculous and repulsive images that apparently lived together in the deep reaches of my brain all the time.

Anyways, my heart started beating faster, and I scrambled to get off that cushion and back into bed before a cold skeletal hand could grab my ankle. In my panic, I knocked over the last light I had, which was the candle, and it went out in a splash of wax and a wisp of smoke on the floor. I squealed and yanked my feet back onto the cushion, and bravely rolled up into a ball.

As my eyes adjusted, I saw that there was still light coming from the above moon and stars through the water, and somewhere else, too, far off in the distance. I strained to trace the source of the strange green-gold light, but it was too far through the murky water.

Lilly jumped onto the cushion, which startled me.

"Mmmmm?" she purred, rubbing up to the glass.

"Mmph." I grunted in reply. Lilly had been quite invisible up till now, refusing to come out from under my bed except at night, when she ran around the common room like a maniac, mewing and chattering and eliciting a good deal of complaints from lighter sleepers, as well as the three other Slytherin cats, none of whom were willing to put up with her constant harassment.

We sat and watched three unusually large and strange-looking crabs as they duked it out on the sand over a dead fish. They were glittery and black, and I supposed I would have been able to find them in _Fantastic Beasts_ if I had brought it.

Lilly watched the lake out the window transfixed, and I slowly dozed off.

When I woke up, there was a mermaid outside my window.

I gasped in surprise, wonder, and disbelief, as it registered in slow increments that I was looking at an _actual mermaid._

She- though I couldn't _really_ be certain that it was a she- was dark olive green like seaweed, with feet of flowing maroon-brown hair that shimmered in the broken starlight under the waves. Her eyes were large and coppery, rust-colored and iridescent as cats eyes. Her face was more fishlike, more froglike, than human, and she possessed kelp-yellow fins that rippled down her back and arms and frayed out at the end of her long green tail.

She was smiling, a slender green webbed finger pressed against the glass just over my cat. Lilly jumped to bat at it and fell down onto the leather, her tail swishing playfully this way and that. The mermaid slid her finger down the glass, and Lilly chased it.

"Whoa." I said.

There was something beautiful about the mermaid, even though she looked nothing like any mermaid I had ever seen in movies or in books.

I sat up slowly, remembering something from _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ about merpeople being violent and distrustful of land people. The last thing I wanted was to scare her away.

Mikaela met a three-headed dog that night, but my thing was cooler.

I watched her tease my cat for minutes, awe-struck, until Lilly made a wild jump and landed unexpectedly on my chest. I jerked. The mermaid looked at me in surprise. I don't know if she hadn't seen me, or if she had just thought I was asleep. Her deep copper eyes surveyed me with an unreadable expression. I stared back at her, wide-eyed, clutching my cat. I slowly put Lilly back down, not taking my eyes from the mermaid.

She swam a little closer to me curiously. Lilly climbed onto my knees and fell lazily and haphazardly into my lap, where she spread out happily, purring, placing her paws on the glass where the mermaid was.

This was a moment I knew I would not forget. Nothing about it felt real, but I knew that it could not be a dream. I was too stunned to be dreaming.

The mermaid made a sudden swish of her long tail and disappeared upward, past the window, out of sight. I watched her shadowy form swim just under the surface away from me, until it disappeared into the murkiness toward the mysterious light.

"I suppose you like her more than me," I accused my cat. She purred and blinked in response.

Not knowing what else to do, I groped my way through the dark common room back to my bed. Tracey's lights had not gone out, but everything was silent. I crept quietly under the green silk blankets, my head spinning, and tried in more futility than ever to fall asleep.

Breakfast the next morning was a spinach omelette, and bagels with lox. If you have never tasted lox, I envy you.

After breakfast, I met up with an equally sleepy Mikaela, who, after half an hour of disgruntled silence equal to, if not greater than my own, regaled me with the fantastic story of the three-headed dog and how she and all the Gryffindors almost got expelled or killed.

"But I still can't figure out _why_ anyone would want to keep that thing around." she said.

"Maybe they're breeding puppies here." I thought.

"Hermione said it was standing on a trapdoor."

"Was there, like, a secret lever that you could pull to make it fall comically into a hole?"

"No. I think... nevermind." Mikaela said.

"What?" I asked. "What?" I asked again. "What?" I asked again.

"Nevermind!" Said Mikaela.

"Tell me." I pried. "What?"

"Just- I'm probably wrong anyways." This was killing me.

"I'll tell you _two _secrets if you tell me this one." I said.

"It's not a secret. I think maybe the dog was guarding something." Mikaela said finally.

"Oh. Like, guarding an expensive treasure, or guarding a dangerous criminal?" I wondered. Mikaela's head slumped down into her arms on the table. Evidently she had gotten as much sleep as me. "Or guarding... a _secret sausage grinder?!_"

Her groan was muffled by the table. I had been making the sausage grinder joke the entire time we'd been here. I was not going to stop.

"Well, here are my two things. First, that piece of paper I picked up is enchanted by dark magic."

Mikaela lifted her head, frowning.

"What?" she asked.

"Yep. Tracey Davis spent the whole night trying to figure it out."

"Why would the Weasleys have dark magic?" Mikaela asked, still looking unhappy. "What does it do?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out." I said. "It insults whoever tries to get into it."

"Oh. That's not so bad."

"The second thing is that I met a mermaid."

"What?" Mikaela looked disbelieving.

"Last night-she was friends with my cat. She was green."

"Are you sure you weren't dreaming?" Mikaela rubbed her temples.

"It wasn't!" I said. "It wasn't a dream! She was right outside the window! She was playing with my cat."

"Was anyone else there?" She asked grumpily.

"No." I said, defensively.

"It was a dream." She said, putting her head back onto the table.

"It was not! I am right!" I yelled. "I am right about this. I am." I said. "Right." I added. Mikaela huffed and turned away.

I stormed off and went to sit by Tracey Davis. She had been awake longer than either Mikaela or I, but she looked surprisingly normal.

"I saw a mermaid last night. Mikaela doesn't believe me." I said. Tracey nodded. We sat silently as I finished my Defense Against the Dark Arts essay.

Mikaela had cheered up by third hour, which was Potions. I didn't bring up the mermaid again. I suspected that she was just being grouchy at breakfast, as was I, but I also pondered whether she would accept my story upon revisitation or if she would refuse to back down even though she knew I was right, which is what I would do if I were her. I always stick by my wrong decisions. So I didn't mention my mermaid again that day.

Every night after that, I awoke at around 3:00 to go look out the window in search of the mermaid, but she didn't show.

One morning, during the usual pandaemonium of feathers and dropping letters, Harry Potter received a mysterious package that Draco later revealed was a broomstick. I was jealous. Not that I really wanted a broomstick after my head trauma. Flying practice was horrendous when we had it, just because it gave me so many new opportunities to get creative with embarrassing myself. I was mostly jealous because my parents only ever sent me infrequent letters and sometimes candy.

"It's not _fair._ If anyone else'd gotten caught, they would've been expelled, not given a broom." Malfoy complained. "Oh, Potter thinks he's so _special_."

I rolled my eyes and concentrated hard on my dumb Transfiguration essay. Transfiguration had definitely been one-upping History of Magic, hatewise, as of late.

"_Describe the importance that differences in categories of Matter hold. Why is it crucial to understand this?" _was the prompt.

I _didn't_ understand this. I was having enough trouble with the sentence, let alone the concept. I was on my third paragraph, writing:

"_It is difficult to transfigure something squishy into something sharp. This is an example of why it is crucial. Also, it is difficult to transfigure something squishy into something that is on fire. The reason this is crucial is because in a real situation, you should not transfigure something into something that is on fire."_

"You're not going to turn that in, are you?" Said a voice behind me.

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" I asked Mikaela irritably, who was standing with her own essay rolled up in her hand.

"Read the book. Take notes. Pay attention." She listed.

"Meh." I said.

"So what's going on?" she asked, glancing uncomfortably at the rest of the Slytherin table, which, to her credit, was predominantly glaring at her with suspicion.

"What?" I asked.

"Someone just sent me an owl telling me to come over here." She said.

"Well, it wasn't me." I said through a mouthful of bagel.

"I thought it was kind of weird to send an owl since we usually meet after breakfast anyways." She said. "Also, it was postmarked yesterday."

"Weird." I said.

"I have something for you." Said Tracey Davis' familiar flat voice. She had practically materialized out of nowhere and was standing right next to Mikaela. Her dark eyes were moving between the two of us in urgent seriousness.

"Oh. Really?" Mikaela said awkwardly after some silence. Tracey Davis pulled out the parchment from weeks ago. It was covered in ink now.

"I cracked it. It was probably the most difficult piece of magic I've ever seen." She handed the paper to Mikaela, I noticed, instead of me. This was, I knew, because I give off a ditzy vibe and people automatically don't trust me with things.

"Oh." Mikaela said, uncertainly, as she unfolded the parchment.

"I wouldn't do that here." said Tracey.

"Why not?" I asked, getting excited.

"You'll see." She said. She didn't speak again.

Mikaela and I, both extremely curious to see what it was that made this piece of paper so secret, immediately took off for the door, shoving people aside that were standing haphazardly in our path.

We ducked behind the door, which was propped open by a piece of wood. Mikaela unfolded the paper rapidly and I kept bumping her arm to try and get her to let me hold it.

The words, scrawled in beautifully grandiose handwriting, read:

"_Messrs. Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are pleased to present you with the MARAUDER'S MAP_."

"It's a _map_?" I groaned disappointedly.

"Look!" Mikaela hissed in excitement.

The painstakingly ink-drawn castle of Hogwarts was alive with little moving ribbons. ARGUS FILCH was slowly floating around the fourth floor, followed closely by MRS. NORRIS. SEVERUS SNAPE and QUIRNIUS QUIRELL were moving around on the staircases. Nearly everyone else was in the Great Hall, except for MIKAELA McPARLAN and MADELINE JOHNSON, who were tucked right outside the door.

It became immediately clear that what we were holding was a sort of holy artifact, an object of such immense value and infinite possibility that it had transcended Objecthood and moved into the realm of Godhood. ALBUS DUMBLEDORE was unmoving in his room, evidently asleep. Neither one of us exhaled, so taken in by the startling power and sheer amazingness that we now held in our hands.

"We can spy on _everyone_." I whispered finally. "Think of all the _stuff_ we could do."

"_Look_." Mikaela let out a low whisper, pointing with her wand.

On the map, there were little secret passages marked all over the school. They led within the school and outside of it, passages that disappeared in the milky vanilla margins of the wrinkled paper. "Where do you think that one goes?" she asked, pointing to one that was marked as being right underneath a rug just one turn down the hall from where we were standing. We exchanged a glance and went to investigate. As we approached the rug, the ink on the map was swallowed into it and replaced by a little moving diagram of a wizard with enormous spectacles uncovering the spot that the rug went over and jumping on the stones in a certain sequence. When he leapt aside, the stones shifted to reveal a sort of manhole that the bespectacled wizard climbed down.

"Well? Are we going to do it?" Mikaela said quietly.

"I don't know. It's almost time for class." I said, getting cold feet suddenly and searching for excuses. "We don't want someone to find us. Let's do it later, during the middle of dinner, or early tomorrow on Saturday when people will be sleeping in."

"Good plan." Mikaela said. I got the feeling that my feet were not alone in being cold.

"Here, give it to me and I'll hang onto it until then." I offered.

"Wait, I want to look at it too. You've already had it." Mikaela said.

"Yeah, but I didn't know it was _magic_ then. Seriously, if the Weasleys see you with their secret map, they'll be mad."

"And what about you? You're in class with Malfoy and all the others all day, how is _that_ any safer? What do you think Malfoy'd do if he saw that thing?"

"He's not going to see it! I'll keep it hidden in my book."

"Well, you'll have to _promise_ not to look. Can you do that? Can you _not look _at the map during class?" Mikaela asked, throwing a fantastic dilemma into the works.

"Yes." I said, lying to myself. "Can you?"

"Yes." She said.

"Rock-paper-scissors." I suggested. This was the best way to solve all problems.

"Fine." Said Mikaela, shoving the map under her arm so she could roll up her sleeve and form a fist.

"Wait! We should change the names to make it more magical. It seems more respectful, somehow."

"What." Mikaela said, but agreed.

"Mermaid, Goblin, Werewolf." I said. "This-" I said, wiggling my arm like a snake, "is the mermaid. This-" I cupped my hand around my nose, "is the goblin. And This-" I made my hands into claws, "is the werewolf. Mermaid drowns Goblin, Werewolf bites Mermaid, Goblin... I dunno, swindles the Werewolf out of a lot of money."

"Okay, then." Mikaela agreed. "One, two, three!"

"Wait! Instead of goblin, let's do Wizard. The nose thing still works."

"Okay, the bell's about to ring, let's not get too picky. One, two, three!"

We had both done Werewolf, as it was by far the easiest.

"One, two, three!"

Werewolf again. We laughed and tried again.

"One, two, three!"

I wiggled my arm like a Mermaid and Mikaela cupped her hand over her nose.

"Ha HA!" I said, making my arm swim through the air and jab Mikaela's nose several times annoyingly. "I win!" I shouted. Mikaela sighed and handed me the map. I jumped up and down in glee.

"You _can't _look at it. Okay?" she said very seriously.

"I get it. It's a Pandora's box." I said dismissively as the bell rang.

"Don't look at it," she warned, walking backwards through the flow of students to get to her class.

"I _know_." I called back.

As I hurried off to Defense Against the Dark Arts, I planned out how I would be able to find chances to peek at the map. As long as no one saw me, I would be fine. I might need to ask to be excused to use the bathroom, or to get a drink.

"Hey!" called an unwelcome voice just behind me in the busy corridor. Instinctively, I shoved the map down my shirt. "You, Johnson!" the voice demanded as I turned around briskly. It was, of course, Percy Weasley, my favorite Gryffindor with a disproportionate head. "Stop right there, Johnson!" He said unnecessarily, as I had already stopped. Annoying.

"What?" I asked meekly as Percy stormed over.

"You are _not _to run in the hall, Miss Johnson." He recited loudly.

"I wasn't _running_." I said without thinking. "I was _bounding_." I looked at Percy expectantly.

"What I saw was _running_. And I don't like your attitude, Miss Johnson." He kept emphasizing _Miss Johnson_, eager to show that he had learned my name.

"Okay." I said cooly.

"I'll see about docking five points from your house, how's that?" Said Percy smugly as he took out his little black notebook and wrote down my name in it. "Just because you evaded punishment once doesn't mean that you're exempt from the rules."

"Okay," I said again, rolling my eyes and huffing. I crossed my arms tightly around my chest to keep the map from slipping out of my shirt. There was no doubt that Percy would recognize it if he saw; as the twins's brother, he'd have seen it before.

"Any more of that attitude, and I'll see about detention!" Percy said, his chin tipped up in an obvious attempt to seem taller. He glanced around, apparently making sure that people were watching him put me in my place.

"Okay." I said finally, turning around to leave.

"Get off to class, now!" Percy said behind me like I wasn't already doing just that. Once I was a good twenty feet away, I started "bounding" again, because I was now late, and Percy was an ass.

"Hey! What did I just tell you, Johnson! I'll have to give you a detention!" Percy shouted at me.

"Oy, Weasley!" Called the smooth and snappish voice of Gemma Farley, who strode across the hall expertly with Corian Greengrass and Richard Higgs, all of whom were prefects. People moved out of their way automatically, and more stopped what they were doing to watch what was going on. "I'll thank you to stop harassing that first-year." She said, smiling and cocking her head. Percy had shrunk a little standing in the tall shadows of Corian and Richard, and was beginning to look flustered.

"This is none of your concern, Farley. Actually, I should think that the three of you would be more concerned about the misbehavior of students in your house." Percy said, trying to retain command of the situation.

"I should think you'd be above taking out your insecure angst on eleven-year-olds." Gemma smirked. "Usually I would tell you to pick on someone your own size, but..." She raised her hand and moved it between the top of Percy's head and my own, and admittedly there was little height difference. Gemma shrugged as Corian and Richard stifled laughter. There were giggles from the people watching.

"That was _quite_ uncalled for! If you're not going to take responsibility for your house's behavior, I shall have to go to a Professor!" Percy was red now.

"Were you actually doing anything wrong, Madeline?" Gemma asked without taking her smug gaze from Percy.

"No." I said.

"_Yes. _Running in the corridor is-"

"Running in the corridor? That's what you're trying to get her for? I don't suppose anything is beneath you, Weasley." Said Richard.

"I wasn't _running_, I was _bounding_." I argued, feeling silly.

"She was _bounding." _Said Gemma with finality. Percy looked up at Gemma and the two boys, and looked around at the faces turned in our direction. His face went redder with anger and he easily resembled a really pissed pigeon. Percy huffed and puffed and turned around brusquely to storm off, glancing one more in our direction and shouting,

"Just you wait!" before disappearing. The people watching dissipated toward their respective classes.

"What an ass." Said Gemma, smirking, her arms crossed.

"Thank you for saving me." I said.

"It was a pleasure." She smiled down at me. "If Weasley tries to give you any more flak, just call on one of us." She motioned toward Higgs and Greengrass.

"Okay," I said uncertainly, smiling back half-heartedly. If Weasley gave me any more flak, I think I'd prefer to just take it so that it didn't get any worse. I did _not_ want to get in trouble, but I'd rather it be some house points now than poison in my pumpkin juice later.

I dashed off to the moving staircases. I only had a few minutes to get to my next class. I'd already been marked tardy twice.

"Ooh. What is _that?_" Asked Pansy, who had been giggling and writing notes to Daphne Greengrass just a moment before. My shoulders clenched.

"Nothing. A drawing." I said without looking at her. I slid the corner of the map back under my 'notes'.

"Show it to us! Your drawings are always so cute."

"It's not done yet." I said, forcing a smile. _Cute_. Bah.

"Yeah, remember that one of the mermaid?" Chimed in Daphne. "You're such a good artist."

"Thank you." I said begrudgingly. There were actually about six drawings of the mermaid, and all of them were currently taped to my window, in case the mermaid swam by again. I didn't like them, the popular girls. Especially when they interfered with my endeavors. I had to look at the map, but it was proving impossible. I needed a plan. An ingenious plan.

"Professor Quirrell, can I go to the bathroom?" I asked.

Foolproof.

I chuckled to myself, feeling badass, as I jogged down the hallway. To assuage the guilt I felt at having beguiled my hapless teacher I made my way toward the bathroom, because then I wouldn't actually be lying.

The moment I was alone in the bathroom, I whipped the map out of my pocket and slumped down next to a radiator.

"Okay, Mr. Mooney, any secret passages around here?" I whispered.

Instantly, the map colored itself in with a picture of a gargoyle I recognized. A little doodle of a wizard came by, tapped on a brick a few times, and climbed into a little hole that appeared there. I almost squealed, but didn't, in case someone happened to walk by. The statue was just down the hallway!

Did I have the courage to do this on my own?

I kept to the wall, like a ninja, as I slid stealthily down the empty hallway. There was no one there, and I wasn't really concealed in any way. I stepped very carefully, making sure to behave as much like a ninja as possible.

"Good afternoon, young miss!" Said Nearly Headless Nick, who was passing by. I shushed him and kept creeping. There could be no witnesses. No witnesses except Nick.

The gargoyle stood decoratively ornamented with the phrase "davies eats dung boms", which was lovingly misspelled in orange ink on the statue's stone wings.

I tapped the brick, and jumped backward in preparation.

The bricks moved aside, and a hole just big enough to crawl through opened up.

I wasn't _really_ going to go in there by myself. It was dark and small in there, and I didn't know what was on the other side. And Mikaela would be pissed at me. And, Quirrell was expecting me to come back. He'd lose all trust in me, and if there's one thing I needed it was the approval of teachers.

So, I folded up the map, and stood up from where I was crouched behind the statue.

Mrs. Norris was standing right in the middle of the hallway. She stared right at me.

"Mmmmmrraw?" She asked curtly.

She _knew_. Oh god, she _knew!_

"Go away!" I whispered. "Go away, kitty!"

She didn't go away. Instead, she started coming closer.

"Mmmmmmraw!" She accused.

"What's that, my sweet?" Asked a growly voice around the corner.

Oh, no.

Thinking fast, I jumped the hell down that hole. I landed in a dark, mausoleum-looking tunnel, with a low ceiling and little light. I started running.

I was going to get expelled. They were going to send me back to America with my wand snapped in two, and I probably wouldn't even be able to fix it with duct tape, even if I used a lot of it. I'd have to go to _public school!_

I ran till I hit a wall, which jumped out of nowhere. I turned a corner and kept going. A little light was visible at the end of the tunnel. Yes! Freedom! I clambered up a little ladder leading to what looked sort of like a manhole, with a square grate in the middle. I pushed on the manhole till it lifted, and climbed out of the tunnel.

I had somehow wound up in a shower stall, which looked like it hadn't been used in ages. I pushed the manhole back into its place, and it integrated into the gold stone-tile floor seamlessly, like it had never been there in the first place. I had a terrible feeling that I was somewhere I wasn't supposed to be. I slid the red curtain aside and stepped out into a larger bathroom. I was right: lining the walls was urinal after urinal. This was the _boys room. _I was trespassing in the underworld.

I considered trying to sneak back down the manhole. Which was worse, getting caught by Filch or getting caught coming out of the _boys room_? The weights were almost evenly stacked.

"What are _you_ doing in here?" Asked a shocked voice. I shrieked and spun around. Neville Longbottom was standing in the doorway, looking incredulous.

"Neville! I didn't mean- I thought this was the girls room! This place is like a maze, you know?" I laughed awkwardly. This was mortifying. "You won't tell anyone, right?"

Neville looked too startled for words. I flashed him a non-threatening grin.

"I guess, but... this... this is the _Gryffindor_ bathroom!" He finally shouted.

I glanced around the bathroom, noticing the red curtains and towels and the gold tiles, as well as the lion crest on all the faucets.

"Oh." I said. "Well, bye." I brushed passed Neville, who still hadn't moved.

I was in way too deep now. Outside the bathroom door was the boys' dormitories, where rows of four-poster beds sat flanked by windows. All the comforters were dark red, and though they looked rather fluffy, I felt like the Slytherin ones were probably softer and silkier to the touch. I didn't pause to check. I darted down the staircase and into the common room, where loads of red armchairs sat scattered about on an ornamental rug. Some of them had books or strange little toys on them, apparently left there under the assumption that they would still be there when their owners returned.

No one was in there. Everyone was at class, except apparently Neville. This was lucky, because I had to run around for a good few minutes before I finally found the door.

After following the the Marauder's Map, I found my way back to Quirrell's classroom, though it was a full half-hour later, and class was over. I found Quirrell sitting in his chair, holding his head and muttering to himself.

"No, no, no, no, no, no!" He was whispering.

"Professor?" I asked.

"Oh! Dear me!" he cried. He jumped from his chair. "Miss Johnson? Wh-wherever have you b-b-been?"

"I just got lost, on accident." I said. It was technically true.

"W-well, then, I won't mark you off, as long as it doesn't h-happen again."

I thanked him and left. I didn't get what Mikaela had against him; he seemed perfectly nice to me.


	7. Chapter 7: Trollin'

Chapter 7: Trollin'

"Think about it. It would be the perfect time to test out some of the secret passages!" Mikaela said excitedly.

"Do wizards even celebrate halloween?" I asked. "What's the point of trick-or-treating if you're _actually_ a wizard?"

"You didn't even _notice_ all the decorations that have been up all week, did you?" Mikaela measured three scoops of billywig jelly and plopped it into the bubbling cauldron.

"Four fireflies, Longbottom, not five!" Snape reprimanded across the room.

"Well, I've been busy, because of Mcgonagall and her unfair homework." I said, ignoring Neville.

"It's just you. You're the only one that thinks it's unfair."

"But what's the point of making us do all those charts and write all those stupid essays?" I complained.

"If you do the charts, you'll do better on the tests." Mikaela said. "I don't like them either, but they're actually sort of helpful sometimes." She mixed in some lemon essence, and I stirred helpfully.

"I find them rather enjoyable, actually." Hermione chimed in from a few tables over. "They make memorizing the information much easier."

"Well, they're stupid." I said. I looked back at Mikaela and changed the subject. "So, halloween. We're going to go exploring the bowels of the castle."

Mikaela laughed at the word _bowels_.

"Yes. I think we should try out at least three passages, but we could aim for four."

The sound of hundreds of marbles falling at once broke through the potions room, and Snape started yelling at Neville again:

"Longbottom! For each kneazle eye you have just spilled, I will remove a point from your house, since you continue to be so insufferably incompetent."

Mikaela continued.

"Everyone will be at the halloween feast, including all the ghosts, which will be perfect for sneaking around the school."

"What if we get caught?" I asked. "Or what if we end up someplace we aren't supposed to be, like, say, a boys bathroom?"

"No one will be there to catch us, which is why the plan is so perfect!" Mikaela enthused.

"_Wingardium Leviosa,_" I whispered, trying to levitate our own cup of kneazle eyes and dip it into the cauldron. We had just learned the levitation charm earlier, and I was making sure to use it on as many objects as possible.

"You're not allowed to use wands in this class, Madeline." Hermione reminded me annoyingly.

"You're not allowed to use _butts_ in this class." I said smartly.

"Aw, be nice." Mikaela said through stifled laughter.

"Aw, be _butts_." I replied.

The ensuing giggling caused my spell to break, and my cup of kneazle eyes toppled neatly into the cauldron.

"_Quiet_." Snape reprimanded. "Wands away, Johnson."

"Yep. Sorry." I said.

As per the plan, after classes ended we met up in the library to make the plan. We decided to first try the passage marked up near the Charms classroom, behind one of the paintings.

"We'll see where we end up from there," Mikaela said.

After waiting for everyone to get down to the feast, we made our way secretly up to the Charms corridor. The key to get into the secret passage was, as illustrated by the wonderful Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, the password "hopscotch".

The painting swung wide open, and Mikaela followed me down two large steps that we had to physically climb down in order to reach the little room at the bottom. It was surprisingly well-lit, but didn't seem to go anywhere. There were the remains of what might have once been a doorway, and they were crumbled and caved in. The only objects in the room were several very old and worn-out advanced transfiguration textbooks.

"Why would anyone want to hide those down here?" Mikaela wondered.

"Agh. I bet the Marauders were all nerds, who used to study secretly down here after-hours."

"Nothing wrong with being a nerd." She said, climbing back up the steps.

"Unless you're a _transfiguration_ nerd." I countered.

The next passage we tried was behind a tapestry on the fourth floor. This one actually led us around in circles for quite awhile. It felt like we were winding up a steep hill, slowly. We ended up in a room I'd never seen before.

"I like this place!" I said joyfully.

"I've never been in here before. I wonder what it's for?"

There were rugs all over the floor, and crystal balls lay around. Everything smelled like incense. Weird tapestries hung about, and diagrams of stars were stapled to the walls. There were piles of books and papers laying around haphazardly.

"Can this be my personal common room?" I asked.

"Ssh!" Mikaela shushed. She pointed at a tall and skinny little woman asleep in a chair in the corner, wrapped up in shawls. Her enormous glasses sat just at the tip of her nose.

"Who is she?" I whispered.

"I heard the Weasleys talking about a Divination class. I think this might be it."

"Let's go." I said, glancing back at the sleeper.

Before we climbed back into the secret passage, I crept over to the sleeping lady and pushed her glasses back onto her face. She snorted, but didn't wake up.

The third passage we tried was the one just outside the Great Hall. This one was the most risky attempt yet, as everyone was just on the other side of the door, laughing and eating. We climbed down the dark staircase, which seemed very steep. The passage shut behind us, and Mikaela held up her wand and cast _lumos_. We were in a tunnel, like the one underneath the gargoyle, except it forked off in lots of different places. We had hit the motherlode; this passage went to at least four different locations. We picked a random direction and headed that way, but came to a collapsed wall. We turned back and tried a different direction. This one led down another set of stairs, and weirdly there was janitorial equipment laying around.

"What do you think that's for?" I asked, guessing the answer and feeling dread.

"Maybe Filch uses this tunnel sometimes. Like, to store old equipment, or something. He probably never even comes down here." Mikaela reassured herself.

"How do you know for sure?" I asked.

"Seems that way." She replied.

"But do you know _for a fact_ that he's not down here?" I demanded.

"No! How would I know that?"

"Let's get out of here as fast as we can." I said.

We found a door that led into the dungeons, just a corridor away from the Potions classroom.

"Wouldn't it be awful if Snape was lurking around?" Mikaela whispered.

"Nah, he loves us." I said as I pulled out the map.

"No, he doesn't."

Snape was nowhere to be found on the map. Instead, Professor Quirrell was hanging around near the entrance, which struck me as odd.

"What's he doing down here?" I asked aloud.

Just then, a horrible rumble shook the dungeons. I gasped, and Mikaela covered her head, apparently expecting a cave-in. Instead, an enormous walking shadow broke through the archway, scattering pieces of stone every which-way. As the giant thing came into light, I recognized it from _Fantastic Beasts_. I remembered it specifically because I had drawn several pictures of the creature with Crabbe or Goyle's haircuts.

"_Mountain troll!_" I screamed.

The troll spun its ugly warty head toward the noise. It had a tiny head for such an enormous body, but it still looked horrific.

"_RUN!_" Mikaela shrieked, and we ran. We ran right past the smelly creature, which seemed too slow and stupid to do anything about it. It roared and swung its club in frustration.

"_Professor Quirrell!_" Mikaela yelled. Quirrell was making his way up the staircase, and jumped as she said his name.

"Oh- Oh my!" He said. His eyes were huge and darted from Mikaela to me in fright.

"There's a troll- there's a troll down here!" I gasped.

"Wh-what are you t-two doing in the dungeons at this hour?" He squeaked.

"You have to get it! You have to stop it before it's too late!" I yelled at him.

"Oh! Yes! But I'll have to get h-help first, trolls are very t-t-tricky!" He turned around and hurried back up the staircase, muttering to himself in high tones.

Mikaela and I watched him, and we exchanged a glance.

"Wait! What about us?!" Mikaela called finally, but Quirrell was gone.

The troll had lumbered back down the corridor, and made a growling noise when it spotted us.

"Go! Go!" I shouted, pushing Mikaela out of the way. I have a very powerful flight-or-fight response. My own legs had turned into jello, but I still managed to stumble up the staircase. We ran like antelopes being chased by a lion, or like antelopes being chased by a troll, because frankly I had no idea where mountain trolls lived.

"Down the hall!" I shouted. We turned a quick corner. The troll was gaining on us. "Hide behind these plants!" I whispered, ducking behind a large fern.

"What? It'll see us!" Mikaela argued, though she had also ducked behind a plant.

"They have really poor eyesight. Just stay still. Ssh!"

The troll lumbered into the hallway, and looked around stupidly. I held my breath and shut my eyes. I opened them after I heard the heavy _thunk thunk thunk_ of troll footsteps pass by me. The troll had apparently lost interest. Mikaela was peeking out from behind the fern, watching as the troll wandered into the girls bathroom. The door swung shut behind it, and Mikaela and I exchanged a glance.

"I guess it's a _she_." she said quietly

Before the troll could return from the ladies' room, I bolted. Mikaela followed me, looking back nervously.

"Should we tell someone?" Mikaela huffed as we ran.

"Yeah, sure, maybe? Let's just get out of here!"

"We have to warn the teachers!"

"Fine!" I ran out of breath.

We met the teachers rushing in a flock down the hallway, and skidded to a halt.

"Miss McParlan! Miss Johnson! Why on earth aren't you two with your prefects?" McGonagall demanded.

"The girls bathroom! It's in the bathroom!" Mikaela wheezed. I fell over, feeling done with life.

"Where are Potter, Weasley, and Granger?" McGonagall asked.

"We don't know, we didn't see them!" I said defensively.

"You two stay _right here_." She commanded, and the flock was off. I looked desperately at Snape, who wasn't even paying attention to me. Dumbledore gave us a slight nod.

"We're dead." I said. "Public school."

Except luckily for us, McGonagall just never came back. The next day, we found out that Potter (of course, it's always Potter) and Weasley and Granger fought the troll and were able to knock it out. I assumed that the sight was so shocking to the teachers that they just forgot about us waiting around in the corridor. We were there for two hours, until Peeves showed up and started lobbing stolen shoes at us.


	8. Chapter 8: The Quidditch Match

Chapter 8: The Quidditch Match

To avoid trouble, we didn't say a word about the incident to anyone, which was really hard and not fair. However, the approaching first quidditch match forced everyone at our dinner table to be silent while Marcus Flint raved loudly about his team.

"We're not going to win unless you _actually follow the rules this year_, Flint." Gemma said, rubbing her temples and trying to concentrate on potions homework.

"Oh, please. My lineup could beat Gryffindor on foot. We could take them blindfolded. They don't stand a chance." Flint banged his fist on the table and shouted, "SLYTHERIN- FOR THE WIN!"

"SLYTHERIN- FOR THE WIN!" Everyone but Gemma shouted in reply.

"Is that our new catchphrase?" She grumbled. "I liked the old one better."

"Are you going to the match?" I asked Tracy. She nodded. "What?! But all it is is just sports on broomsticks. What's so great about quidditch? Why do people even like watching sports anyways? It's not like you're effecting the game at all. Quidditch matches are just stupid."

"Everyone goes." Tracy said bluntly.

"Is it mandatory? Because that would be _stupid_."

"No."

"Well, then, I'm not going."

Because I didn't have to wake up early for classes or quidditch the next day, I decided to stay up reading a cookbook called _Charm Your Own Cheese._ All the lights were off, because a third-year named Terrence Higgs couldn't get his schoolbooks to stop glowing after he flubbed the _lumos_ charm, and he thought that if he just left them in the dark long enough they might burn out and go back to normal. I read by candlelight.

It was midnight when I heard the _tap tap tap_ on the glass. I'd been writing down useful recipes like "Levitating Soufflé" and "Musical Bratwurst", and the sound came as a surprise. In disbelief, I glanced slowly at the window.

The mermaid was back.

I let out a startled squeak and threw my book onto the ground on accident. The mermaid grinned at me. She was holding something in her green webbed hand, and she held it up for me to see.

"Woah." I said. It was a little statue, carved out of driftwood. It was a little person. It looked like a young girl, with blue beads for eyes, and a shell of hair around her head. "Is that me?" I asked silently. She pointed to one of the drawings I'd done of her, and nodded at me. She put the little statue down on the ledge of the window, so that it was peering in on the common room.

The mermaid gave me a last wave, and then with a flick of her tail disappeared upward, into the dark water.

The little statue was so pretty. I'd never felt more fulfilled before in my life. I sat in awe for minutes before finally realizing what this really meant:

I had _proof_ that I was right. Indisputable proof. Right there, on the other side of the glass. I had won!

Perhaps Mikaela had gotten over the whole mermaid thing at that point, because she was just in a mood that day, but I definitely hadn't. If only I could get her down to the Slytherin common room, I could do the "I am right" dance. I briefly considered using the Marauder's map, but it was her turn to take care of it.

My mother had packed me about five disposable cameras, but I would have to go to a muggle Walgreens to get the pictures developed, and I didn't have that kind of time.

The only possible option would be to dive down into the Hogwarts Lake and get the statue myself. The problem with that was it was mid-November, and dead cold.

As I puzzled it over in my mind, my eyelids began to droop.

I woke up to the terrible sound of team spirit.

"SLYTHERIN- FOR THE WIN!" Shouted Flint.

"SLYTHERIN- FOR THE WIN!" Shouted everyone. "WHOOO!" The applause was irritating.

"Noooo," I muttered, and covered my head with a black throw pillow. People were laughing and talking excitedly, and I hated them for it.

A hand grabbed the pillow off my face.

"Hey," said the person attached to it, "You ready to see the match?"

"I'm not _going_." I growled at him. It was Higgs, one of the players. I reached out to grab my pillow back, but Higgs tossed it behind him to Flint, who tossed it to Miles Bletchley, who volleyed it at one of the beaters. The beater spun melodramatically and tossed it back to Higgs, who finally gave it to me.

"It'll be fun, though." He said.

I glared at him, but didn't go back to sleep. Instead I gathered up my cookbooks and left the whole sorry lot to their mob psychology as I set out to breakfast early.

The whole great hall was decked out in either red or green, from left to right. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw seemed mostly in support of Gryffindor, though I did see some green-and-silver flags in the Ravenclaw house.

Mikaela, I saw, was sitting at the Gryffindor table wearing a red-and-gold scarf, hat, and mittens. Well, fine, if she wanted to go the the match, I wouldn't stop her. Instead, I would use reverse psychology. I sidled up to the Gryffindor table, gently sliding Ron Weasley out of the way so I could talk. Reverse psychology. Subtlety.

"So," I said casually, "Quidditch is stupid."

Mikaela sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. "You haven't even seen a real match yet. You have to go, it'll be fun."

"Why would I want to watch a bunch of jocks flying around, hitting eachother?" I demanded. "I could fly around and hit people on my own time, thank you very much. I mean, what's the point of watching a match you're not playing in? It's just lame. It's like regular football, and I don't even watch that."

"It's _wizard _football, and you should come. You could bring a book," she said hopefully. "_Fantastic Beasts _or _Charm Your Own Cheese_."

"Bah. I'm bored of that one. I'll be spending _my_ Saturday," I said as I stood up, "in the _library_."

"Oh, good! That's where I'm going as well." chimed in Her-majesty Granger from across the table. "I really would like to see Harry play, but I've been spending _so_ much time helping him with his homework, I've gotten a bit behind." I groaned.

"You? Behind?" Ron scoffed from my other side. "I'd like to see _that_. All you do is homework, even when _we're_ all be having fun."

"Not all of us write our potions essays ten minutes before class, _Ron_."

"Some of us write them during_,_" I agreed. "Well, see you at the match." I waved to Mikaela as I left the table, spinning back and accidentally hitting Harry Potter with my body because he was walking right there.

"Oh! Sorry." He said. I suddenly felt my cheeks turn hot for some reason. He probably thought I was one of his loser fangirls. _Be cool, _I told my brain.

"No probs, bro." I said cooly. "Catch you on the flip-side, Harry... Harrykins."

Dammit, brain.

Considerably more shaken up than he had been before, Harry joined his friends at their table, and I spent breakfast trying to secretly levitate Crabbe's green-and-silver scarf off him because I didn't have one.

Unfortunately, Hermione _did_ show up at the Quidditch match. But luckily, I didn't have to talk to her, because Mikaela had decided we were going to sit with the Hufflepuffs.

"I don't want anyone to tease either of us because of house rivalry. All the super in-your-face fans are sitting with their own houses, so it's either this or Ravenclaw."

"Bah. Ravenclaw. They think they're so cool." I said unhappily. It was cold out and Professor Snape had made me take off my orange deerhunting hat because it 'looks preposterous.'

"Some of them are nice. Like what about Michael Corner?"

"Who?"

"GRYFFINDORS SCORE!" Shouted Lee Jordan. The entire Gryffindor stand leapt and cheered. Mikaela clapped politely.

"Michael Corner. He's a Ravenclaw. He's in our year. He's usually really quiet and kind of weird, but every now and then he just says something really funny, and everyone's just like, _what?_"

Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle as the snitch flitted past his ear, and Alicia Spinnet swooped in to catch it. I clenched my fists.

"What are we going to do with the map next?" I asked casually.

"I dunno. Last time was sort of a close call."

"If we're more careful, I mean."

"Slytherin in possession- Flint with the Quaffle- passes Spinnet- passes Bell- hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose- only joking, Professor- Slytherins score- oh no..." Lee Jordan broadcasted.

The Slytherin stands leaped up and cheered wildly.

"Yay," I said, doing a weak fist-pump, conscious of Mikaela's slightly soured expression.

"Well, what if we found like a little secret room, and made it our hideout?" Mikaela said, returning to the conversation.

"What would we do with a hideout? Sell drugs?"

"It was just an idea."

"What if we got a bunch of throw pillows, right? From both of our common rooms. And we decorated the floor of our hideout with them. And then maybe we could get some blankets to use as carpets, like that cool classroom we snuck into."

"Sounds like a blanket fort." Mikaela said. A moment of silence passed between the two of us as we both came to the same realization. "_A giant blanket fort._" She whispered.

"Holy crap. _We should have thought of this sooner!" _I shouted.

"We are a genius." Mikaela said.

Harry Potter looked like he was having a seizure on his broom.

"Uh-oh." Mikaela's attention redirected toward the match.

"I know what that's like," I said, thinking of Mr. Tapey.

All of a sudden, Harry Potter did a rocketing nosedive toward the earth. Most of the people in the Hufflepuff stands stood up in shock, like gophers do.

"Hey!" I yelled. I couldn't see a thing.

Mikaela and I pushed our way to the front of the stands to see what was going on.

Harry sat sprawled in the middle of the field, coughing. Something gold popped out of his mouth. He stared at it in amazement.

"I've got the Snitch!" He shouted, waving up at the Gryffindor Quidditch captain.

"HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Lee Jordan shouted.

"WHAT?!" I exploded.

"YES!" Mikaela screeched.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!? HE DAMN NEAR SWALLOWED IT, THAT'S NOT _CATCHING!" _I raged.

"GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR! WHOOOOOOO!" Mikaela was roaring at the same time.

"GET HIM OFF THE FIELD! FOUL! THAT'S A FOUL AND YOU KNOW IT!"

"GO HARRY! HEY, FLINT! YOUR LINEUP'S A LITTLE PATCHY, DON'T YOU THINK?! WHY DON'T YOU BUY YOURSELF SOME REAL PLAYERS!"

"REMATCH! REMATCH! IT DOESN'T COUNT! OH, WHY DON'T YOU SHOVE THAT SNITCH BACK DOWN YOUR FACE AND CHOKE ON IT?!"

"HEY, REF! THAT WAS A LEGITIMATE PLAY! LEGITIMATE PLAY!"

A very large Hufflepuff seventh-year picked the two of us up by our coats and forcibly removed us from the stands. Embarrassed, we stalked back to the school, secretly planning what would be the Greatest Blanket Fort of All Time.


	9. Chapter 9: No Farters Allowed

Chapter 9: No Farters Allowed

Winter came, and with it came the season of giving. By "the season of giving", I mean that every single morning, as all us Slytherins crawled up out of our hole and all them Gryffindors came down from their high tower to endure a far-too-early communal breakfast, Draco Malfoy received a new bundle of packages from his mother. First there was a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, then there were some sugar mice, then a box of toffees, and then came the stacks of newly minted Wizard Cards, and the stacks of valuable vintage Wizard Cards, and the new cauldron full of soft gloves and socks and a hat that Draco was never going to wear, and then came the full outfits, and the new robes, and once a pet white rat that I never saw again which tapdanced across the table, and then a baby owl of Draco's very own, named Orion, which he preferred infinitely over the rat. It truly was the season of giving, if you were Draco's mother.

_Merry Christmas Madeline! And a Happy New Year!_

Read the card my family had sent me. They all signed it and enclosed was a 20$ Barnes and Noble gift card. _Please come home soon. I'm bored._ Hannah's handwriting was sprawled across the back of the note.

Tracey Davis' mom had sent her a strange little iron box that shook dangerously every now and again. She pocketed it after a momentary glance.

"What's in there?" I asked. She shrugged. "Aren't you going to open it?"

"It's an enchanted puzzle box. You can't open it."

"What's the point of giving it to you, then?"

"That _is_ the point."

Mikaela came over with a card in her own hand. Her face was slightly red.

"This is the family Christmas card," she said. "It says, _Seasons Greetings_."

"That it does." I answered, nodding.

"It says, _Seasons Greetings_, _Michelle and Larry Fiefer_."

"Oh."

"On the back of it my parents congratulate me on my son's scholarship to UMD, and on my daughter Jessica's new baby."

"Well, good for Jessica!" I said. "At least the real Michelle and Larry Fiefer probably got a nice heartfealt letter from your parents saying that they loved them. I got a gift card, and Hannah's bored." Draco tore the lid off his latest present, a black box with a large white bow, and grinned as he pulled a pair of Nerubian Dragon-hide Quidditch boots. Mikaela watched him. There was something burning in her gaze, and I realized she might be more upset than I thought. "You know," I said quickly, "I'm pretty sure that Owl Post doesn't work very well for muggles. They're probably very confused by it. I mean, owls, right?"

"We're going home next week, anyway." She said, still glowering at Draco. "Speaking of which, what are we going to do about the you-know-what?"

By that, she meant the blanket fort.

Using the Marauder's Map, we had successfully snuck into the laundry rooms and pilfered sheets and blankets from all four houses, as well as a pair of socks we were reasonably certain belonged to Professor Snape, which had accidentally gotten thrown into the wash. We had kept the socks because the idea of a Hogwarts teacher having to wear socks like the rest of us was very odd and amusing. Using the largest secret hallway we could find, and several broken chairs we had borrowed from Filch's storage rooms, we created a vast network of blankets and pillows. This was not a blanket fort, it was a blanket palace. We had used it as our official clubhouse for weeks, baptizing it with a large and lovely sign which read dangerously, "PERCY IS A DUMB FARTER! NO FARTERS ALLOWED!" We tried to get Neville to come with us one day, but he refused to climb down the rusty ladder in the secret little tunnel in the back of the library. Mikaela said he didn't have to if he didn't want to, and I called him a wet butt.

The fort turned out to be a great idea. It was a good place to store candy that you didn't want Crabbe to get his hulk hands on, and to keep library books that you didn't want to lose. We also practiced dueling in there, an art which Professor Quirrel wouldn't teach us because he was a wet butt, and also we were first years. Using the miniature library I'd accumulated, we figured out such deadly curses such as _Rictusempra, _the Tickling Curse, and _Expelliarumus,_ the Disarming Charm,which I was reluctant to allow Mikaela to test out on me.

"Disarming? Like, take off my arms? What if you screw up and that's what happens?" I asked, shielding my face instinctively.

"Don't worry, Madam Pomfrey can probably fix that." Mikaela said, pointing her wand at me.

Professor Sprout had us de-gnome a turnip patch one day, and in curiosity we captured one of the little potato-looking guys and tried to raise him as a pet in our fort. This went badly; the next day we returned to find that he had somehow escaped from underneath the laundry basket that was to be his home. It had seemed like such a clever idea at the time.

Mikaela thought about getting her brother David to send her a Nintendo that we could have in the fort, but eventually she decided not to because "he'd say no, and we've got nothing to plug it into."

The time between American Thanksgiving and Christmas was certainly jolly, and everyone was in a rather good mood. And as a sort of bonus, Potter, Weasley, and Hermione Granger were out of commission entirely, spending all their time in the library, going over books. I didn't have an issue with Harry Potter personally, but ever since his Quidditch victory he'd been quite the Golden Boy of Hogwarts, something I was relieved to discover also irked the other Slytherins. It was something to talk about in the common room. Malfoy, who seemed to fancy himself the Golden Boy, hated Potter more than any other person, and had the most to say about the issue. So much so that it was difficult to have a conversation with him about the matter, although honestly it was difficult to have a conversation with him in general as well. Mikaela, on the other hand, seemed to be somewhat fond of Harry Potter, and usually tried to strike up a conversation with him and the other two when we passed them in the library on our way to our secret fort.

Unfortunately, the missing chairs we used to build our wonderful fort had not gone unnoticed. Filch was currently out with a bad cough and a broken toe, but he would undoubtably uncover our masterpiece over Christmas break, while we were away with our families. And then, we would be ruined. Public school.

"I suppose we'll just have to burn the whole thing down," I said sadly, twirling my spoon through a jar of blackberry jam.

"We have to get the sheets back to the laundry rooms somehow." Mikaela ignored me. "It'd be too obvious if we did it all at once." She slid the disappointing Christmas card into her charms book bitterly.

"_Nerubian_ _Dragonhide boots_!" Draco bragged loudly, ripping off the tag on his shiny new present. "To think, there are people here whose parents didn't think to send them a thing!"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Mikaela yelled across the table. Draco turned her way and smirked, holding his boots high.

"I wouldn't feel _too_ bad if I were you, McParlan. I mean, _your_ lot aren't really the sort to exchange gifts like civilized people, they always insist on getting drunk and making a ruckus with their muggle lights and shows and such. Really, you're lucky if they haven't sent you a half-downed bottle of scotch as a present- they haven't, have they?" Draco said. Mikaela's mouth didn't move. "Probably, it means your stupid muggle parents have already forgotten you. It's really for the best."

The Slytherin table went completely silent. Mikaela's mouth didn't even twitch. I looked at her and back at Draco, and stood up.

"Well," I stammered, "_your_ parents obviously don't... obviously don't understand the true meaning of Christmas!"

"_RICTUSEMPRA!" _Mikaela shouted. Something bright and red flashed out of the tip of her wand, and Draco fell off his stool.

"Mikaela!" I gasped. Pansy Parkinson stood up.

"_What did you do to him?!_" She shrieked. Pansy whipped out her wand.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!" _Mikaela cast. Pansy's wand flipped out of her hand and onto the floor, where Draco twitched in convulsions of laughter.

"_Petrificus totalus!_" I heard someone shout. I jumped out of the way of the spell just in time, and Mikaela froze up as it hit her. I turned around to see Gemma Farley at the other end of the table, looking grave. It was weird to see Mikaela all stiff and stony like a statue.

"What is going on here, Farley?" Percy Weasley demanded, striding over from out of nowhere like some sort of hyena that was lured by the sound of helpless students in pain.

"One of yours this time, actually." Gemma said. "Caused quite a disturbance, I would say. Someone should take her to her head of house."

"Miss Farley, may I remind you that it is forbidden for any student to use offensive spells against another?"

"You may not, Weasley. If it weren't for me, our houses would have deteriorated into a full-on brawl by now." He looked over at the Gryffindor table, which seemed to be ready to collectively get up and murder us. "I should get an award, shouldn't I? But I won't. Just like you won't win an award every time you quote the school rulebook. This is your problem now."

"What's going to happen to her?" I asked, frightened. "Will she stay like this?"

"Madam Pomfrey will take care of it. Move along, please." Percy waved me away with authority, making only the briefest of eye contact. His look was saturated with smug victory. I sat down unhappily. Percy summoned a gurney and wheeled Mikaela away.

"Mudbloods." Draco said, standing and adjusting his robes indignantly.

"Gryffindors." Gemma grumbled, violently slicing a breakfast roll in half with a butter knife.

I hid my head behind a book.

Mikaela came back during lunch with a detention and no time for laughing.

"So," I said after a long silence, "How are you?"

She threw me an anguished sidelong glance.

"I have to spend the afternoon mucking out the girl's bathrooms, because Filch isn't around."

"That's not so bad."

"Yes, it is so bad. We're going home tomorrow, remember? The fort is still up."

"Oh. Yeah. We'll manage, though. It'll be fine."

"You'll have to take it down yourself."

"Yeah, I know. I can do it."

Mikaela's head sunk down into her arms on the table.

"This is a bad day." She said.

"Yep." I agreed.

Mikaela didn't talk to anyone during Potions, and offered Professor Snape a glare so scathing when he criticized our phlegm-stemming potion that he docked Gryffindor ten points. It nearly matched his own. I tried to seem supportive, but I also had to seem apologetic to everyone else, because I didn't want to end up in trouble, too. Mikaela was not pleased with me, understandably.

Neither of us had ever gotten in trouble for anything before. We had always followed the rules, and when we didn't, we never got caught. What a mark of shame, I thought, is a detention on a previously perfect record.

"You really shouldn't have attacked him like that," Hermione pointed out out of the blue after class.

"I didn't _attack_ him. I- It's- ugh!" Mikaela fought.

"I'm only trying to help, you know."

"You're not the Mom Police, Hermione." I said helpfully. Both Hermione and Mikaela gave me disdained looks.

A few hours later, Mikaela headed off for detention, and I snuck off to the library, casually hauling an inconspicuous stack of laundry baskets with me. I passed Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione, and as per usual they sat huddled together paging through dusty old books with yellow pages and wood-carved illustrations. As objectively irritating as Potter was, I felt a little bad for him, being sucked into Granger's little study-psychopathy and all. I gave him a thumbs-up as I passed, which, I believed, confused him.

The laundry baskets made a rather loud rattle when I threw them down the ladder, and that was my first mistake.

The blanket fort stood there on mahogany chair legs, beautiful in its green and red blankets. What a sad thing to destroy it. I spent quite a long while just untying the knots on the chair legs, which I had originally tied so carefully and tightly that if Marcus Flint had fallen on top of our fort he would have simply bounced gently like a baby on a trampoline. Then I found a stack of old drawings I'd done the month before and left there, as well as some wizard cards Mikaela'd traded from Lee Jordan. I spent awhile just sitting there and going over them fondly.

About an hour and a half soon went by, and I found myself sitting intently, reading the short biography of Beatrix Bloxam on her wizard card, surrounded by felled blankets and the half- tied remnants of a once mighty fortress. Just as I realized how long I had been idling, something absolutely horrific happened.

"Hello? Is someone down there?"

Percy Weasley's voice bounced off the walls of the tunnel like a swarm of bees attacking from nowhere. I froze up. I mentally paged through the four or five good spells I knew, but I couldn't discern any practical way Wingardim Leviosa could possibly help me in this situation. Very briefly I entertained the notion of levitating the laundry baskets over Percy's head and making my escape, but I'd have gotten into even more trouble.

"Excuse me, is someone down there? I can see you have a light on."

How the hell did he find the secret entrance? Had I accidentally left it open? Had Her-migraine squealed on us? Had Percy been secretly stalking us for weeks, waiting for just this moment?

His footfalls coming down the ladder reverberated throughout the room. I quickly ducked into what was left of the fort and hoped he was too stupid to pull back the curtain.

He wasn't.

_Step, step, step_ was the sound of his prickish little shoes hitting the floor as he got closer and closer.

"What-!" I heard him exclaim angrily. I assumed he must have seen the "PERCY IS A DUMB FARTER" banner we had made in his honor. _StepstepstepstepstepFWOOOSH-_ the blanket flew away, and my hiding place was revealed. Percy had crazy-eyes.

"AAH!" I shrieked, unintentionally.

"Johnson!" He shouted in outrage, eschewing the 'Ms' for the occasion. "This- what- explain yourself!" He demanded. I thought it was rather self-explanatory. "You know what, nevermind! I'm getting the Headmaster. The Headmaster will hear about this, do you understand?! You will stay right there, do you understand?! Actually- you will come with me. I am getting Headmaster Dumbledore! I am getting Dumbledore!"

"This isn't what it looks like," I tried to say. "It's... a surprise party for you?" But he was already grabbing my arm and dragging me behind him up the ladder.

He stormed down the corridors, trailing me behind him. We passed a few people, some of whom glanced at us. I imagined how ashamed I looked and wondered if I would lose street cred. Percy forced me into the Great Hall, where, I was mortified to discover, the majority of the school were eating dinner. Percy barely blinked and did not stop, like a cattle-slaughterer leading a frightened calf to the blade.

"Headmaster Dumbledore! Headmaster, sir! A word, please?" Percy called. Dumbledore, who had been benevolently filling his plate with white grapes, turned. He gave a small smile to me and to Percy, and I felt as if I would cry.

"Aha, Mr. Weasley." He said. "And Miss Johnson."

"Headmaster Dumbledore, I was going about my business in the library, researching for Ancient Runes, you know, but nearly all of the books I needed had been checked out, and not returned for weeks. Or at least, that's what I had believed, until Peeves began to assault me with the very books I had been looking for. When I threatened him with the Bloody Baron and demanded that he stop, he told me that he had gotten the books from a hidden stash beneath the library, where two first-years had secreted them away. Against my better judgement, I followed this information. Headmaster-" Percy said, huffing upsetdly, "What I discovered can only be described as a blatant violation of school principles." Percy struggled to find the right words. "Miss Johnson and the other first-year, who I have reason to believe must be Miss McParlan of Gryffindor, have constructed an illicit fort in an illicit, closed-off secret tunnel. I believe they have been using it to storehouse library books as well as other stolen items, most likely. And they- there is a very large banner hanging over it, on which they have written... very crude insults, directed at me, personally, Professor. Headmaster, sir." Percy attempted a professional nod to distract from his embarrassment, but he was so flustered and crimson that he instead appeared to be impersonating a bobbing rooster.

"We didn't _steal_ anything!" I argued.

Professor Dumbledore did a small, odd little smile, which disappeared nearly a second later. I got the feeling it was entirely for my benefit.

"There are many rooms and passages in Hogwarts which are hidden, Mr. Weasley. Many are secret, and many others virtually inaccessible except to those possessing of remarkable agility or uncommon imagination. None, however, would I describe as 'illicit' or 'closed-off'. There is a rather important difference between something which is difficult to do, and something which is wrong." Dumbledore peered over his half-moon glasses at Percy, who seemed to cool on the outside, but tighten within. "That being said, I should like to see this secret fort for myself."

"Headmaster!" Percy protested. He was obviously nervous about the Headmaster of Hogwarts seeing an accusation of his being a "farter".

"Calm down, Mr. Weasley. The House-Elves have complained to me about missing sheets and blankets, and I should like to put their worries to rest. And," he continued serenely, "if your good name has truly been slandered at the hand of Misses Johnson and McParlan, then, I believe, you are owed an apology by them."

I didn't believe I owed anyone an apology, but if it kept me from being expelled, I'd have said one. Before it came to that, though, Dumbledore had Mikaela excused from her detention, which she was initially happy about until she found out that it was because she was in more trouble.

"You were supposed to take _down_ the fort!" she whisper-yelled at me as we followed Percy and Dumbledore down the corridor to the library.

"I'm sorry! I got distracted!" I said defensively.

Dumbledore, in his blue-and-silver robes, was very tranquil on his way down to the library, humming quietly to himself all the way. We entered under the great archway into the large and ever-impressive library, which smelled, as usual, of leather and parchment and ground spice. Dumbledore seemed to intuitively know his way to the trapdoor on his own, though Percy led the way, the little trailblazer.

"This is the worst. Oh, this is the worst." Mikaela kept repeating to herself over and over, like a mantra. Dumbledore dropped down the ladder as easily as a ten-year-old, and the rest of us followed, Mikaela rubbing her temples.

"Alas!" Dumbledore exclaimed.

The fort was gone.

Gone, the whole thing. Every last trace of it. The banner, the chairs, the blankets, the socks nailed to the wall. Just disappeared. Percy gaped, Mikaela gasped.

"Well," I said, "Obviously this was all a big misunderstanding. Case closed!" We stood in an empty corridor, a tunnel devoid of any decoration or book or wizard card.

"But- but-" Percy stammered. "Someone must have come in and cleaned up after them! Some other Slytherin, Draco Malfoy, maybe! I swear, Professor, there was an enormous blanket fort here just over ten minutes ago!" Mikaela and I both groaned at the mention of Malfoy, and Dumbledore nodded.

"I believe you, Percy." He said calmly. "However, since there is no crime here which has left evidence, I cannot persecute Miss Johnson nor Miss McParlan. And, after all, an enormous, hidden, complicated blanket fort is not such a terrible thing to accomplish during one's spare time at Hogwarts. In fact, I believe it is rather appropriate!" Dumbledore did a little half-smile. "Equally appropriate, Madeline Johnson, Mikaela McParlan, would be an _apology_ to Mr. Weasley. I believe you have caused him quite the unrest, unintentional as it may have been." Dumbledore put a little more emphasis on the _may_ than I was comfortable with.

"We're sorry, Percy." Mikaela said.

"Percy, we are sorry for causing unrest. And also for bugging you." I said.

"There!" Dumbledore clapped his hands together lightly. "Now, if I remember correctly, there is a lovely plate of dinner awaiting me in the Great Hall, which I would deign to return to."

Before leaving, Percy gave both Mikaela and I separate looks of pure frustration. We trodded in silence down the darkened corridor alone together, neither able to say a word. Dinner was nearly halfway through, but it didn't seem to make sense to follow the rest of Hogwarts to the Great Hall. It was simply so absurd- each and every scrap of our monthlong occupation of this tunnel had gone out like a blip. We just walked silently, for minutes, gaping. The Fat Friar drifted by and waved a friendly hello, and the two of us each gave him an awkward, polite acknowledgment in return. Once he passed by, I met Mikaela's gaze. I felt my face contort into a mad grin.

"It's a Christmas miracle!" I shouted finally. Mikaela started laughing, and I started laughing. And then, it was like all the tension completely deflated out of the place, and out of the day, and out of my friend.

"What _happened_?!" She laughed, shaking her hand.

"I have _no idea!_" I yelled. "I think Hogwarts _ate_ our fort!"

"There is literally no other explanation."

"Magic, Mikaela. Magic."

"Magic!" She clapped.

"Or," said a cool voice behind us, "you know, a couple of blokes with laundry bags who know a few good charms."

The smile dropped from my face. Mikaela turned around before I did.

"Oh... Hi, Fred. Hi, George."

I felt the overwhelming urge to bolt. Instead, I turned slowly, and quickly met the eye of each twin before looking down nervously.

"That was a rather nice fort you put up there," said George. "Very clever, really."

"Also rather clever of you to figure out the map. Took us ages. How'd you manage, anyway?" Fred asked, stepping forward casually.

"Tracey Davis. She's a genius." I answered, trying to seem cool-headed. I took a step back.

"Aha. Did'ya show it to anyone else?" Fred asked.

"No." I said.

"Right, then. Then that's only three people we'll need to kill." George said. Mikaela and I threw mortified glances to one another, and Fred laughed.

"Only joking, first-years."

"We're just having a bit of fun." George grinned.

"We _will_ be needing it back, though." Fred added, more seriously.

"We didn't _steal_ it or anything," Mikaela began to stutter, "I mean, we saw you drop it and Madeline picked it up and I wanted to give it back-"

"So did I! I got distracted, though, and Tracey Davis said it was enchanted, and then the next thing you know, it's like we've got the key to the whole school!"

"I completely forgot about you guys! The map was just so _cool_."

"It's like ambrosia for the sense of adventure." I added.

Fred and George both nodded. Reluctantly, Mikaela took the Marauder's Map out of her robe pocket and handed it over to George, who surveyed it, looked surprised for a moment, and said,

"_Mischief managed._" And quite suddenly, the ink receded into the page, as if it had never been there.

"Whoa." Mikaela and I both sighed at the same time.

"You could've asked us to borrow it, you know." Fred said.

"We would've said no, but the point still stands." George added.

"Sorry, Fred and George." I said sincerely, far more genuine than the apology I had made to their brother.

"Yeah. Sorry." Mikaela said.

"You two really drove us mad for the first week or so," George said, brightening.

"Didn't take us long to figure it out, though." Fred clapped his twin on the back. "We could have come after you sooner, but our hearts were truly won over by that lovely sign you made-"

"'Percy is a Farter,' we kept it, in case you wanted it back. Though I wouldn't mind having it around personally, it could come in use someday."

"-We thought you two earned yourselves a reward for your efforts. It was rather adorable, really."

"You're welcome, by the way."

I didn't know what I thought about being called 'adorable,' but I was certainly glad that the twins weren't half as angry as I'd expected them to be.

"Um... thank you?" Mikaela said uncertainly.

"Just _don't do it again_." Fred shook is finger at her.

"And don't go blabbing about it to everyone, this map is a well-kept secret we're not quite ready to share with the world. Maybe someday," George said,

"But not today." Fred finished.

So that was the end of the Marauder's Map. And the end of the first semester. The next morning, Mikaela and I boarded the Hogwarts Express, which took us far away from school, and towards Christmas, and home, and frosty Minnesota winter.


	10. Chapter 10: The Hogwarts Lake

Chapter 10: The Hogwarts Lake

We returned from break feeling overstuffed and nearly brainless with muggle comforts such as Nintendo and television. February was the worst. No one could focus, not even Tracey Davis, who was the least silly person I had ever met. Not even Draco, who considered himself too pure-blooded for such nonsense as muggle television, which he laughed at when I suggested he ought to try it sometime.

"You'd probably like it. Loads of violence, people getting their heads chopped off or exploded, and there's whole shows just about entitled rich people from powerful families getting fame and beautiful women thrown at them."

"I've heard it's a sort of thing muggles use to avoid using their brains during the day. My father says it's only a matter of time before they stop going outside entirely, and turn into fat lumps of flesh. I personally wouldn't mind much."

"You're probably right. But that's half the fun!"

I had a secret theory that Draco was secretly more curious about the muggle world than he let on, like a more asinine version of the Little Mermaid. Mikaela didn't share this theory with me, choosing to firmly believe that Draco was purely an ass. I'd come to terms with the fact that there would be no avoiding him, since we shared every class together, and he really had no way of avoiding me, either. It was much easier to get along with him once I realized that we had absolutely nothing in common and he would never be nice to me. We were developing a somewhat pleasant, polite, openly hostile relationship based on mutual dislike and begrudging familiarity. I had finally begun to understand what Mcgonogall had meant when she said Slytherin would be my "family"; even the very worst Slytherins had come to feel like cousins of mine. And much like my true extended family, everything was very political and complicated, and everyone loathed everyone else while simultaneously giving them complete trust. Slytherins, we all agreed, were the most easily dislikable people in the school. Each and every one of us knew it. However, and we also agreed unanimously on this, Slytherins also deserved to win the House Cup more than any other school, as we truly were the greatest of the four in any competition.

"_My_ family has the means to provide a higher caliber of entertainment. For instance, have you heard about the newest racing broom model? I got to ride one over the holiday, it's called the Nimbus 2001. _Much_ faster than that old thing Potter rides." Draco bragged during groupwork in Charms.

"Well, look at your stuff. Isn't it neat? Wouldn't you think your collection's complete? Wouldn't you think you're the girl- the girl who has... everything, Draco?" I asked innocently, practicing the Dancing Charm on a little gingerbread man, who was refusing to perform anything more impressive than a simple two-step. Draco sneered at me, not understanding my reference.

"This is a stupid spell." Draco said, unable to get his own gingerbread man to stop spinning slowly. "_Locomotor Mortis._" He cast. The little cookie man's legs turned stiff, and the poor guy fell over, only able to dance with his arms and torso. The bell rang, and class was dismissed. I took a bite of my charmed cookie. Draco watched his gingerbread man squirm for a moment, making sure that Crabbe and Goyle were watching so that they could be impressed by his prowess, and then pocketed it. "I'd like to try that spell out on a person sometime," he drawled as we left class and began to make our way toward the moving staircase.

It was at that moment that the ever-unfortunate Neville Longbottom decided to walk past, with no one else around to protect him.

"Longbottom! Just the person I was hoping to find." Draco shouted meanly. Neville spun glanced back in terror. "There's a spell I've been meaning to test- would you like to be my guinea pig? You look like one already."

"Run, Neville! It's a trap!" I yelled. But it was too late. In an instant, Draco's curse had hit Neville, whose legs locked together, causing him to fall over quite comically. Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco all laughed. Poor Neville squirmed there like a caterpillar, struggling to stand up.

"Hey!" Parvati Patil shouted, coming from behind a corner with Lavender Brown and Mikaela. Draco and his groupies hustled off, apparently easily spooked by a gang of girls. The three of them helped Neville to his feet, and the poor guy hopped off in embarrassment towards Gryffindor Tower. Parvati and Lavender gave me the evil eye. I supposed they thought I was involved. I shrugged and opened my hands as a peaceable gesture, which they did not buy. "Come on, Lavender." Parvati motioned, and the two of them headed up the staircase.

"Why don't those guys like me?" I asked Mikaela.

"It's not that they don't like you, it's just that they don't know you. I guess they sort of..."

"Lump me in with the other Slytherins." I suggested.

"Yeah." She agreed.

"Well, that's dumb, because when I have angst about a cookie, I don't take it out on innocent bystanders. I take it out on the cookie itself." I held up what was left of my gingerbread man. "That's what makes me the better wizard."

"Exactly." Mikaela nodded. "And when I have angst, I let it fester until it turns me into a bitter old lady."

"You're always a bitter old lady." I said as a compliment.

"Exactly."

Gryffindor overtook Hufflepuff in the next Quidditch match so painfully fast that even the Slytherins started being nice to them for awhile, even though their failure meant that Gryffindor was one step closer to our Cup. Mikaela and I sat in Ravenclaw that day; she thought it would make sense for us both to cheer for Gryffindor, since my house wasn't even playing, but I disagreed. Gryffindor was too close to winning for comfort. Once again, Potter the Special Boy was the mechanism for Gryffindor's lucky victory.

"I don't understand what makes him so special! He's not any better than anyone else." I found myself complaining.

"Except he _is_." Mikaela answered in irritation. And, partly, in genuine awe of Harry Potter.

March came and went, as did both of our birthdays, which we celebrated by giving eachother rather stupid little homemade presents. Neither of us had access to anything really exciting, so Mikaela charmed me a batch of chocolate truffles and gave me a few moving pictures she had taken of us, which I really loved, and I wrote her a sad little story which was entirely self-indulgent and not very funny at all, but which made her laugh anyways. I felt a little bad because my present wasn't magical, but I thought I made up for it by spending a full night awake in the Slytherin common room writing it for her.

As good as our friendship seemed to be, I found myself a little worried, every now and again. As I was becoming more and more accustomed to the Slytherins, Mikaela seemed to be getting closer and closer to her fellow Gryffindors, and every few mornings I found myself sitting at breakfast alone or with Tracey Davis, and neither Mikaela or I would get up to glumly greet the other as we had so often done. In fact, there seemed far fewer adventures to be had this semester than the previous one. I thought perhaps it was because our Marauder's Map had been repossessed, or perhaps it was because the curriculum had been becoming harder. Or, perhaps, I sometimes worried, it was because she liked Harry, Ron, and Hermione more than me.

In fact, as spring came closer and closer, we hung out less and less. There was always Potions class, and that was nice. April soon shook the snow off the tired stone castle, and the earth greedily drank up the meltwater. In Transfiguration, we focused on the upcoming finals. In Charms, we focused on our upcoming projects. In Potions, we studied for the exam Snape promised most of us would fail. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Quirrell had us memorizing facts like a nervous tick. It would have been nice to have at least one teacher who didn't expect us to devote all our attention and free time to their class. In desperation, we turned to Professor Sprout. Even in the head of Hufflepuff's class, we were given no reprieve.

"Springtime is here, and that means budding season, first-years!" Sprout sang cheerfully. "All the work we've done over the winter is about to come to a finish! As a part of your final exam, I'll have you record the progress of seven of the magical plants we've grown as they bud and blossom into full-grown specimens!" The sun shone through the greenhouse windows like it hadn't done all winter, and the golden glow around everything was disconcerting. "For this project, you'll need to get into groups of four-"

The moment she said this, everyone in the room began to rapidly choose their teams through eye contact and facial movements. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all buddied up, and I nodded at Tracey Davis, who ticked her head towards Daphne Greengrass to show that she'd be joining us. Millicent Bullstrode and Pansy Parkinson had chosen one another, of course, but no one seemed to want to group with either of them. The Ravenclaws chose amongst themselves, not wanting to risk collaboration with anyone 'less academic' than they on such an important project.

"-which you may start to form once I hand out the instructions."

When the instructions had been handed, Tracey, Daphne, and I all stood together. I rather liked Daphne, who had a confident air about her, but who wasn't as obnoxious as Pansy or Draco. Pansy and Millicent looked about the room, realizing that they were the only two not belonging to a group yet. Pansy reluctantly went to join Draco's group, leaving her friend to work with us. Millicent reluctantly waded through the overgrown plant life in Greenhouse One to stand with the three of us. I smiled at her politely.

Millicent was not a very pretty girl, being rather large and unfriendly-looking, particularly next to the slight, fey Pansy. I got the impression that she had low self esteem, and that running with Pansy made Millicent feel more powerful. She could be very cruel at times, but I felt sorry for her.

Professor Sprout gave each of us the names of the plants we would need to collect and observe, and the locations of the garden plots around the school where we would find them.

"English Chomping Cabbage prefers a bit less light, so that'll be in Garden Eight down by the lake." Daphne read. We strode through the brisk, crisp spring air across the school grounds, which looked very lovely with the little bits of green that had begun to emerge all over. Songbirds, which were rare throughout the winter, had returned in multitude, and made proclamations of their reign in sweet chirps in the trees and rafters of the school.

When we arrived at the lake, I was pleasantly surprised to find Mikaela, and less pleasantly surprised to encounter the rest of Gryffindor.

"What are you all doing down here?" I asked. Mikaela stepped away from Lavender and Parvati, waving to them.

"Quirrell let us have class outside today. And then he left. So, actually, I have no idea."

"Such a strange little man," I replied. "We're collecting cabbages for Sprout."

"Well, have fun with that."

"We are. There is much fun happening."

Our attention was called away by the more interesting sight of a second-year boy standing shirtless at the end of the old dock, surrounded by a few others.

"_You guys are all sissies!_" He shouted to them. They laughed.

"Do it!" They shouted back at him daringly.

"I will- I swear I will!" He answered. He seemed just about ready to jump into the freezing cold water.

"Who's that jackass?" I asked, unimpressed.

"That's Cormac McLaggen. He's in Gryffindor. Unfortunately." Mikaela replied.

There was an obnoxious splash, and when Cormac resurfaced he let out a yell of shock at the cold, as if he hadn't anticipated it. He clambered back onto shore as fast as he could, shrieking and laughing.

"Aw, he's so _cute_." Lavender giggled, coming up behind Mikaela. I _pfft_ed and rolled my eyes. "Well, I don't suppose _you_ would be able to take a jump like that, _Madeline_." She argued.

"I could, and I wouldn't scream about it." I said bluntly. Mikaela laughed, a little nervously.

"I could, but I'm not going to, because that was simply the most ogre-like display of sheer idiocy I have ever seen." Daphne added, joining the conversation.

"Well, Greengrass, obviously we're not all classy and prissy like you, so we might think differently." Lavender said, becoming more agitated.

"What you call _prissy_, some call _hygenic_. Perhaps if you tried it out, you'd be able to aim a little higher than that thuggish thing," Daphne retorted, pointing over at McLaggen. "Perhaps a jump in the lake is just the thing _you_ need."

"Go away, Daphne!" Parvati cut in. Lavender looked as if she were about to cry, but she held in tears like anger. "Just because you think you're better than us doesn't mean you get to go around acting like a harpy hag!"

"Everyone, calm down! Chill out." I interrupted. "Just chill."

"No one's a harpy hag." Mikaela added.

"I wouldn't say that," Daphne said, smirking.

Cormac McLaggen chose that particular moment to swagger on up to us like a complete douchebag, shirtless, and say,

"Hello, ladies."

He couldn't have been more poorly timed.

Daphne raised her voice. "Everyone, who here thinks Cormac _isn't _the hottest thing since self-stirring cauldrons?" All four Slytherins raised their hands. Myself included. "Alright, and who wishes he would sweep them off their feet and carry them away to his castle on his fat horse?" Parvati and Lavender both seethed in anger. Mikaela had no clue what to do at this point; all she could do was stand and struggle. "No one? Well, then, it seems to be unanimous, then. Cormac, apparently girls find you fairly unattractive."

Millicent giggled loudly.

For someone with such an obviously overlarge ego, Cormac reacted very strongly to the insult. His smile instantly disappeared.

"Yeah? Well, why should I care? You're a whiny princess and chuckles over there looks like a mountain troll, so I guess it doesn't matter." Cormac's friends, who I hadn't noticed before, laughed hard at this, slapping their fearless leader on the back. Millicent's wide forehead briefly creased upward in hurt, then down in anger.

"_Take that back!" _she cried, her voice tragically lower than his. Cormac's Gryffindors only laughed harder. Millicent ran at them with her large hands clenched into threatening fists, and leapt on Cormac, tackling him to the ground. "_Take that back, you stupid, dirty, half-breed blood-traitor scum_!"

"Get off him!" Lavender cried, and tried to wrestle the formidable Millicent away from McLaggen. Parvati attempted to pull her away, and Cormac's friends got involved as well. The combined effort of the boys was enough to subdue Millicent, who continued to shout at Cormac.

"Mountain troll!" Cormac roared in disgust, wiping the mud and grass from his robes. I glanced at Millicent, who I knew was breaking inside, and at Cormac, and at Mikaela. I pulled out my wand.

"Take it back, McLaggen." I said, pointing it at him dangerously. He and his friends laughed.

"What are you going to do with that?" They scoffed. "Flipendo us?" I saw Tracey step up from behind me. She also had her wand out, an intricate, ebony beauty made up of strands which seemed to twist. And on my other side, Daphne pulled out her wand, which was bone-white and studded with glistening stones.

"I know a curse to make your skin fall off," Tracey said emotionlessly.

"Well, there you have it." I nodded at Cormac.

"And beauty _is_ really only skin-deep, if I'm not mistaken." Daphne added, smiling. "So you'll rethink what you have to say about Millicent."

"You wouldn't dare." Lavender said, pointing her own wand.

"Care to go to the hospital wing today covered in boils, Brown?" Daphne cooed. Parvati raised her wand, as did, to my surprise and horror, Mikaela.

"No one's cursing anyone." She said firmly. "This is a stupid argument, and you're all going to leave it be."

Had we just taken up arms against eachother? Like, actually? I couldn't leave it be; I had to get justice for Millicent. Mikaela didn't understand. Millicent was much more fragile than she appeared, and no one deserved to be tormented the way she was, every day. I couldn't leave it be.

How had this happened? First second, we're hanging out slightly less frequently than usual, and then next, we're on opposite sides of a house gangfight.

Before the sparks could literally start to fly, I heard a splendidly familiar voice.

"Oy! First-years, second-years! Break it up!" Gemma Farley strode down the hill, followed by the other Slytherin prefects. She looked absolutely furious. "What's on earth is this about?"

"McLaggen called Millicent a name, and he refuses to take it back." Daphne explained angrily.

"McLaggen, take back the name-calling." Gemma commanded.

"Sorry. I take it back." McLaggen mumbled. "But _she's_ the one who made fun of me, first!" He pointed at Daphne.

"Daphne, say you're sorry."

"Only if he says he's an idiot." Daphne crossed her arms.

"You have to apologize to idiots all the time in life, you ought to get used to it. Trust me."

"Fine. _Sorry_, Cormac." Daphne said begrudgingly.

"Alright. That'll be thirty-five points from Gryffindor, twenty from Slytherin. That's five each. Don't give me that look, it's quite fair. Knowing math comes in handy once and awhile. You, you, you and _you_," she said, pointing at Cormac and his friends, "back into the school. Now. The three of _you" _she motioned toward Mikaela, Parvati, and Lavender, "are going to Professor McGonogall's office immediately, she'll come up with a punishment. _You_ two" she pointed at Daphne and Tracey "will talk to Professor Snape. _You_" she pointed at Millicent "can go back to the common room. I'm not going to punish you for defending yourself."

I looked around nervously.

"What about me?" I asked finally.

"Oh, I know _you_ weren't instigating anything. You, I'm not worried about." Gemma said.

"Oh." I replied. "But I was getting ready to jinx Cormac, with Daphne and Tracey."

"Listen, I know for a fact that you weren't doing anything wrong, because I know for a fact that you _won't_ do anything wrong. Just- Nevermind me. I've got a splitting headache." Gemma rubbed her temples. The boys had already started up the hill, but the girls were still standing around. "_Go,_" Gemma hissed, and they went. There was something wrong with my stomach, like a swarm of ants had been let loose inside me.


	11. Chapter 11: Gryffindor vs Slytherin

Chapter 11: Gryffindor vs Slytherin

Mikaela didn't talk to me the next day at all, or the day after that. I didn't talk to her either; frankly, I was too scared. What had happened at the lake was so utterly disturbing that I didn't think either of us had finished coping yet. Nothing like that had ever happened before. Ever. And what's worse, I was the only one who got off scot-free. Daphne resented me, Lavender and Parvati hated me, Millicent had felt embarrassed by me, and only Tracey was the same as usual, but only because she was an android.

"Neville," I asked one day in the Great Hall, "is Mikaela mad at me? On a scale from one to ten, how mad is she? Take your time, Neville. But tell me now."

"Er-" he started uncertainly, "I dunno. I think she's... medium?"

"Medium?" I asked incredulously. "What does _medium_ mean? Medium angry, or medium normal? Or just emotionally _medium_ all around, like not happy and not sad? Like, depressed medium? Apathetic medium?"

"I-er- just medium, I guess."

I sighed defeatedly.

"Neville, what are you doing in Gryffindor anyways?" I asked. "I mean, you're nice and all, but how come you're not in Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw, even?"

"Well," Neville swallowed, "when I put the hat on, I told it to put me in Hufflepuff. I guess Gryffindor was for brave people, and I'm not- I don't think-" Neville floundered for words. "But it didn't listen to me. I don't really know why."

"You're not brave, Neville." I said. "But I think you ought to be. And probably the Sorting Hat thought so too. And I'm not particularly cunning, or mean, or clever, and I barely fit in in Slytherin. Everyone there has an agenda. I don't. I have no agenda." I leaned back against the table, and gazed up at the enchanted ceiling. "Being in Gryffindor doesn't make you automatically in the right. And being in Slytherin doesn't automatically make you better at handling things." I sat up again and looked Neville straight in the eye. "Is there something I don't understand?"

"There's a lot I don't understand," Neville said sadly.

"I feel horrible." I said. "I feel like I've eaten an entire carton of every flavour beans. I feel like a wet butt."

"Maybe you should apologize." He said.

"I'm sick of apologizing to people. I _was_ right, by the way! I _am_ in the right! I keep on _being_ right, too!"

I swelled with anger all of a sudden, which seemed to materialize out of nowhere. My eyes turned bleary, and the mahogany grandeur of the Great Hall faded into hot tears. I knew then that I was about to do something drastic, but I didn't have any clue what it was going to be. Against every bit of my better judgement, I stormed over to where Mikaela sat with her Gryffindor friends, where they were going over different ways to treat werewolf bites for the DADA final.

"Hey!" I said, not loudly enough to be a shout. "I don't understand why you didn't believe me about my mermaid. I've seen her three times and she's real." Mikaela looked visibly shaken and uncomfortable, like a rabbit in the headlights. I felt very much like one.

"I thought you only saw her two times." Mikaela said in a low voice.

"Three," I replied. "The third was the night I made your birthday present, but I didn't tell you about it. I don't understand why you didn't believe me."

"It wasn't that I didn't believe you, I was just tired of hearing about it!"

"Well," I continued without listening, "I have _proof_. Proof! And if _anyone_-" I looked around at Mikaela's study group, "- is interested in watching me, I'm about to dive to the bottom of the Black Lake to get it. Right now."

"Madeline," Mikaela started. But it was too late. I'd found my rollercoaster car and I was going to ride it all the way to destruction. "I'm not coming down there!" She called after me as I left. "I've got a study session!"

This was certainly something drastic.

From the time I left the building to the time I reached the shores of the lake, word had seemed to spread about what I was going to attempt. Each step I took made me feel less confident in my ability to succeed at this, but each follower I gained made it more important to try.

"All right!" I called when I was at the edge of the dock. It was a beautiful morning, very British, with low-hanging clouds and a nip in the spring air. The water looked freezing. I remembered something my mom had told me once about people dying from the shock of cold water, but I figured that if Cormac Mclaggen could survive, I could as well.

I realized that I really had no idea where the Slytherin common room was in the lake. It would need to be rather far out into it, since the water was so deep out my window.

"What on earth are you doing?" Daphne shouted.

"Something stupid!" I called back. "Okay, on the count of three! One, two-"

My heart made a jump before I did, and I hit the cold water before I could say another word. It was absolutely freezing. It was like icewater. It was like all of winter had simply condensed into the lake instead of disappearing, and the cold was so powerful that I couldn't keep my head underwater at first without getting a brain freeze.

Still in my sweater and pajama bottoms, I swam around a little to get used to the water. People were chattering and giggling onshore. I realized that I wasn't a particularly popular student, which had never bothered be before. If the Slytherins were mad at me, I could live. But if Mikaela didn't like me anymore, it meant that I was truly friendless.

I began to swim out towards the center of the bay, where I figured the common room would be, or where it would make sense to start looking. I wasn't remotely worried about drowning. I was a strong swimmer, and could likely lap the whole lake if I wanted to.

I plunged my face into the water, which was murky and hard to see in. After awhile, I found a trace of a faint green glow, and followed it. When I took a breath and looked around, I found myself very far from shore. I could hardly hear the shouting people I'd left behind, or see their faces anymore.

It was a very deep dive, I realized. The greenish lamplight of the Slytherin common room was directly underneath me, and I could even make out where my favorite window was. It was like flying over a building, except without a broom, and there was little chance of crashing into anything. I was a lot higher up than I expected to be, though. I didn't know if I could actually make it.

I took my first try.

I kicked as hard as I could, but before I was able to pass the top of the stone building I ran out of air and had to return to the surface. I wished I was an animagus, like Mcgonogall. A dolphin animagus. I tried again, this time with only half the breath I'd taken before, hoping it'd help me sink faster. It did, but I ran out even quicker, and didn't make it very far past the point from before. I tried a third time, and a fourth. And then a fifth, and a sixth, and a seventh, and a tenth and a thirteenth. Slowly, the crowd which came to watch me trickled away, until there was no one left but Tracey Davis, and soon even she left me.

By high noon, my feet and fingers were numb, and I was getting very tired. I decided that I'd probably swim better without the hindrance of pants, but when I went to unbutton them I discovered my wand was still in my pocket. It gave a good idea. I grabbed the wand and ducked under the water, pointing it above me. In a sputtering slur of bubbles, I shouted, "Flipendo!" And found myself being propelled backwards very quickly. I almost laughed in excitement, but didn't want to waste any more breath. "Flipendo!" I shouted again. "Flipendo!"

Soon I was at the bottom of the lake, which was much, much colder than the surface. I found the little stone statue the mermaid had made for me and clutched it.

Interestingly, I could see directly into the common room now, and, to my amusement, Crabbe and Goyle were staring incredulously at me from the leather sofas. I waved at them before starting to swim back.

Something cold and slimy wrapped itself around my heel, and I let a slurry of bubbles loose in a scream. I looked down to see what had grabbed me, and met the puffed-up eyes of a very ugly and very large Grindylow. I tried to kick it loose, but its grip was iron. I swung the statue through the water and ground it into his long, spindly green fingers, which made him let go of me, and I darted upwards as fast as I could.

In a second, the thing was back on my leg, and there was another one with it, which was smaller, clinging to my foot and biting me. I dropped the statue and tried to pull them off, but they were fish-things, and I was a mammal-thing, and my lungs began to burn in desperation. A third Grindylow hooked onto my other foot. I kicked and fought as hard as I could, but I still sank, and the light from above faded.

It occurred to me that I was drowning. I'd be in so much trouble if I drowned. I opened my mouth and accidentally inhaled some water.

All of a bright sudden, the water around me flashed red, and two of the Grindylows got knocked away. I took in a lungful of water and my brain went blurry, and the next thing I knew someone was dragging me onto shore. The someone hit me in the rib cage. I sputtered water all over the place. Fresh oxygen flowed into me for the first time, and the color scheme of the world seemed to shift from red to blue.

Mikaela sat over me, completely soaked, and Percy Weasley stood next to us looking concerned.

"Are you alright?" He asked in a more gentle voice than I'd heard him use before.

"Yes- _hurrgh_" I coughed up more water.

"Good. I'll have to take twenty points from Slytherin. Swimming in the Black Lake is not permitted by Hogwarts without supervision."

For the second time that year, I passed out.

Madam Pomfrey was not pleased with me.

"Honestly! It's as if students are _trying_ to get maimed. I should wonder if they really are teaching you anything."

"I feel weird."

"That'll be the hypothermia. And oh, dear, look. These bites are infected."

"They are? But they're new, how can they be infected?"

"Trust me, dear, I know my trade." She uncorked an unpleasant-smelling potion bottle and dabbed the bite marks with something stingy and acidic. "Leave that on, and don't move." She said, exiting.

Mikaela peeked her head in through the doorway.

"My hero!" I said, but it came out very weakly.

"I didn't think you were going to drown yourself." Mikaela said. She sat by my hospital cot.

"I didn't either. So there."

"I was _really_ mad at you, you know. I thought you were going to jump in the lake and everyone would laugh and be impressed and you'd be done with it, and I thought, 'well, she can do that if she wants to, and she can get hypothermia if she wants to.' I didn't think you'd actually get hypothermia, though. When Tracey told me you were still down there, I decided to get Percy."

"Tough call." I said.

"I didn't see you out there, but I saw your pajama pants floating in the water, and I knew you were probably in trouble. So I swam out to save you." I closed my eyes. Ever since spring started, there was too much sunlight everywhere. "Are... are we fighting?" She asked.

"No." I said. "No, I think I'm pretty much done. How about you?"

Mikaela sat back in her chair, and her face was a little red.

"At the beginning of the year you said you wouldn't be friends with mean people." She said.

"Yeah." I replied.

"Well... aren't you friends with mean people?"

I thought about it.

"No, I don't think so."

"Pansy? Millicent? _Malfoy_?"

"I'm not friends with any of them. There's a difference between being friends and being frenemies, and being hostile cousins. Slytherin isn't like Gryffindor, you know. We're not all best friends, and we don't do everything together."

"Gryffindors aren't all best friends." Mikaela objected. "We're in all the same classes, so yeah, I've kind of gotten to know them really well, but they still bother me sometimes."

"Well, then, how come you always pick them over me?" I asked. I was starting to cry, too.

"I don't! You're always with Tracey Davis, and now Daphne and Millicent. I can't get a word in at all."

"You avoided me for two weeks, though!" I shouted, and this time tears spilled out.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to me!"

"Well, you were so mad at me about Mclaggen!"

"I wasn't _mad_, I was _scared_, because you were turning into a _Slytherin_."

"I think I've been less of a Slytherin recently than I've ever been before. Standing up for Millicent, jumping into the lake to prove a point. It's very Gryffindor." I sat up in bed a little. "And you know what? I'm bad at it. I'm bad at being Gryffindor. I only get myself and other people hurt."

"Maybe that's why you're not a Gryffindor."

"And you, you've been very Slytherin lately. And you're not good at that, either. When you try to be brave, good things happen. When I try to be brave, bad things happen. When I try to avoid my problems, they go away. When you try to avoid them, I almost drown. Maybe that's what the Sorting Hat meant."

"I don't know about that." Mikaela said. I looked up at the ceiling.

"I wonder if Neville could be brave." I said, after a silence.

"Anyone can be brave."

"You know, this is the dumbest thing we've ever fought about." I said. "It's also the longest fight we've ever had."

"I think we've beaten out our last fight by twelve days now."

"What was the last one about again?"

"I can't remember."

"I kinda remember something about pickles and potatoes."

"The pickles and potatoes fight was a lot less dumb than the Gryffindor and Slytherin fight." Mikaela said.

"Yeah. Because we all know that pickles and potatoes can never get along. They're just too different. Gryffindor and Slytherin go together like ice cream and hot fudge."

My food reference prompted Mikaela to sneakily take a thing of Every Flavour beans off the nightstand next to the cot on my other side, on which lay a scarred and unconscious Harry Potter. He had so much candy, he probably wouldn't miss it. We poured the beans out onto the blanket, and sorted out the white ones for Neville.

"He looks sort of cute, like a sleeping baby." I mused. Potter looked much smaller than I remembered him. "I wonder what he got into?"

"I bet it was cool."

"I bet he lost you guys a buttload of points."

Mikaela chose a speckled purple bean and popped it into her mouth, making a face. I picked a sandy-colored one, which I shouldn't have been surprised tasted like sand. The sunlight streaming through the white curtains of the hospital wing didn't seem as harsh now as it had when I first woke up, and the thin, lacing shadows that the medieval windows cast on the floor fell long and golden.

"Do you think we can do this? Stay friends even though we're in enemy houses? For six more years?" Mikaela asked.

"No," I said. "I think we can stay friends much, much longer than that."


	12. Chapter 12: Green and Red

Chapter 12: Green and Red

With finals done, and Voldemort apparently defeated one night while I was peacefully reading _Zombie and Inferi: a Travel Companion_, there was very little to do around Hogwarts for the last few days except toss a quaffle around in the courtyard and experiment with the moving staircases, which Snape docked points from Gryffindor for when Mikaela accidentally hit him with her body trying to land a jump. Another experiment we tried, though we didn't verbally call it one, was inviting Lavender, Neville, Parvati, Tracey, and Millicent to have a picnic together underneath the tree in the center of the courtyard. I didn't think it smart to invite Daphne, since she was just a little bit of a sociopath. Mikaela was on the edge about Millicent as well, but I assured her we wouldn't let anything get out of hand. Millicent was much shyer than she seemed. It was awkward, and strained, but at the end of the hour, Parvati was laughing at Tracey's morbid jokes, and Neville seemed to get more comfortable around girls. Lavender remained wary the whole time, but Lavender was a ridiculous human being, and there would be no helping her.

Neville Longbottom singlehandedly stole the House Cup from Slytherin that year, or so I accused him of doing.

"I'll never forgive you, Neville. Never." I told him as we hauled all our junk out to the train. Truthfully I could have cared less about Dumbledore giving our trophy away. It was somewhat rewarding to watch Draco suffer.

Our exam grades came back, and I did just as I expected- passed with flying colors in Potions, reasonably good in Charms, Herbology was a flat mess, Defense Against the Dark Arts was about the equivalent of a B-, but since Quirrell turned out to be Voldemort I questioned whether it would count towards a credit, and I managed to scrape a passing grade in Transfiguration, mysteriously enough. Mikaela did much better in Transfiguration and Herbology than me, not understanding how I could possibly manage to kill something called _armor root, _but my Potions mark was better than Hermione's (she made sure to check) which gave me Genius Rights.

As happy as Hogwarts had become, I was glad the year was over. We rolled passed muggle towns and houses, eating chocolate frogs and agreeing to burn all our homework upon homecoming.

"I'm glad we're going home." Mikaela said, echoing my thoughts. "Are you glad, Neville? You've turned into a real hero, you know."

"Yeah. I haven't written my Gran about it yet. She'll be real pleased, I think."

"How can you be so naive?" I asked the two of them seriously.

"What?" Mikaela asked.

"We're not going home." I said. I lowered my face. "This was just a set up."

"What are you talking about." Mikaela said, unamused.

"This train is taking us... to a _sausage grinder_!" I shouted. Neville jumped, and his chocolate frog hopped away.

...

_Thank you for reading this! This fanfiction is dedicated to my very best friend, who is more brave of heart than anyone else I know. Even when the task feels impossible and we realize we were stupid to try it in the first place, remember that we always come out alive in the end, and it's always the most convoluted schemes, blowing up in our faces, that shape us the most. I hope this story is always a source of happiness for you. I hope you read it to your grandkids. They'll be all, "what the hell is this shit, Grandma?" and you'll be all, "this is the internet, dammit! Kids these days can't even tell grumpy cat from lolcats. Now get me my banjo." and I'll be all, "hey bros, can I live here? I got kicked out of the nursing home because I was harboring convicted felons for cash." And that's how our friendship story will end. In a house full of grandkids and felons._

I got really off track. I'm sorry. What I'm trying to say, best friend, is that you're strong, and I believe in you. Even when you mess up. Even when I mess up and you get stuck fixing it (which happens a lot). Even when we're faced with an impossible problem, when everything seems unfixable. I believe in you, and I'll help you, and I'm a better person for knowing you.

_Thanks for twelve years of antics._

To everyone else, lemme know if you want to see more of this. Hope you were sufficiently entertained!


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